GODsTALKed~

MOVING! GODsTALKed: The Sequel

2010-08-19T22:46:00.002-04:00

I'm trying to do more with my blog, turning it into both a blog and personal website.

This means adding some of the things I was trying at my other blog, in a way that is more organized and less busy (also, it means only having to deal with one blog, rather than two).

So, I'm moving GODsTALKed to wordpress. I hope you'll follow me there:

http://frmarkmossasj.wordpress.com

See you there!

--Fr. Mark

An Early Review of Already There

2010-08-17T22:23:00.003-04:00

Karen in Mommyland has been kind enough to provide a review for Already There. Here's a taste of it:

"I liked how incredibly readable the book was. While reading Already There I just got the feeling that I was hanging out with a good friend. It's engaging, it's interesting, it's humorous and it has the ability to be life changing."

Read the whole review here.

I am grateful.

3 Favorite Prayers

2010-08-17T12:51:00.002-04:00

Becky has asked me to share 3 of my favorite prayers with you, as she has also done on her blog.

So, here goes:

1 Lord, Save me! --St. Peter

2 The Anima Christi

Soul of Christ, sanctify me.
Body of Christ, save me.
Blood of Christ, inebriate me.
Water from the side of Christ, wash me.
Passion of Christ, strengthen me.
O good Jesus, hear me;
Within thy wounds hide me;
Suffer me not to be separated from thee;
From the malignant enemy defend me;
In the hour of my death call me,
And bid me come to thee,
That with thy saints I may praise thee,
Forever and ever. Amen.

3 Jeremiah's Lament

You duped me, O LORD, and I let myself be duped;
you were too strong for me, and you triumphed.
All the day I am an object of laughter; everyone mocks me.
Whenever I speak, I must cry out, violence and outrage is my message;
The word of the LORD has brought me derision and reproach all the day.
I say to myself, I will not mention him. I will speak in his name no more.
But then it becomes like fire burning in my heart, imprisoned in my bones;
I grow weary holding it in, I cannot endure it.
But the LORD is with me, like a mighty champion…
Sing to the LORD, praise the LORD,
for he has rescued the life of the poor from the power of the wicked!

Jeremiah 20:7-13

Amen.

On Retreat

2010-08-10T11:04:00.001-04:00

I'm off today for my annual 8-day silent retreat, giving thanks for the wonderful young adult retreat we had this past weekend in Atlanta.

Prayers appreciated.

Peace,

Fr. Mark

Not Quite Michael Clayton

2010-08-03T16:22:00.003-04:00

This year, in addition to the various other things I was doing, I gave a bit of my time to help in the work of NJCIR (The National Jesuit Committee on Investment Responsibility). The NJCIR invests in different corporations and then, as stockholders, meets with leaders of those corporations to discuss social justice concerns. I wasn't sure what to expect when I agreed to do the job. But it involved attending a couple of meetings with a corporation in White Plains, NY. Together with some NJCIR regulars and some representatives of partner organizations, we sat down at a table and made our concerns known. I wrote a short reflection on my experience for the NJCIR annual report. Here's some of what I had to say:

As we sat down to our meeting with the agribusiness company, Bunge corporation, there were visions of the film Michael Clayton dancing through my head. Yet, thankfully, the only coincidence was the type of corporation we were dealing with. Tilda Swinton’s ruthless corporate villain was not sitting at the table with us. Instead, there was a rather amiable cast of characters, each willing to listen to our concerns . . .

. . . I always thought that if I were advocating for such things, I’d be living beside the poor in a third world country, not sitting at a corporate conference table in White Plains, NY. Our corporate responsibility efforts are certainly less visible and less romantic than advocating for refugees on the borders of Africa, but no less important. But in the midst of doctoral studies and teaching at Fordham University, it is nice to know that 90 minutes of my time, and a train ride to White Plains can make a contribution to human rights and environmental justice in other parts of the world.

You can find out more about the NJCIR, and read the entirety of my reflection in its annual report, which can be found here.

Happy Feast of Saint Ignatius!

2010-07-31T02:36:00.003-04:00

Today is the Feast of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Jesuits. It is a day when Jesuits around the world gather for a special celebration. In New Orleans, where my Jesuit province is based, we honor today the men who are celebrating various jubilees as Jesuits and priests. This includes men who are celebrating 25 to 70 years of ministry as Jesuits. We thank God for their dedicated and continuing service to the people of God. You can learn more about our jubilarians here.

I will not be able to join them today. But part of being a worldwide Society means that we often gather with the local community wherever we find ourselves on this day. Today, another Jesuit from my province and myself will be joining our brothers in Belgium to celebrate the Founder's Feast!

A while back, I wrote a series of reflections on Ignatius' life. The first one talks about the scene depicted in the left hand panel of the above photo of the sanctuary of Ignatius Loyola church in Manhattan. It's the battle in Pamplona, during which Ignatius is injured. It proved to be an injury that would change his life and, eventually, the lives of countless others.

A recent article describes Ignatius Loyola Church:

"The curved apse presents three main events in the life of St. Ignatius. These huge murals of colorful Venetian glass mosaics resemble Renaissance paintings and are by the same company that crafted the Stations of the Cross. The scenes show Ignatius wounded in the battle that prompted his conversion, kneeling before Pope Paul III in 1540 to get approval for his new order, and receiving acclamation in heaven at his canonization."

Read the rest of the article here.

Happy Feast!

The Comment Box is Open

2010-07-26T16:19:00.002-04:00

The blog has been going for about two years without comments. I do get some feedback when the posts feed to Facebook, but I do miss some of the back and forth of my old blogging days (but not the meanness). So, I've set the new posts to be open for moderated comments.

Comments are also open at the companion blog for Already There--Spoiler Alert--where I will be posting as well.

I look forward to reading what you have to say!

Saint Ignatius' Advice for E-Mailers & Bloggers

2010-07-25T08:37:00.003-04:00

Well, not exactly . . .

I've been reading Saint Ignatius' letters for a project I'm working on, and it struck me today that his guidelines for Jesuits writing letters back and forth--and making distinctions between what should be public and what private--are well applicable to electronic correspondence today. Once again, Ignatius seems a bit ahead of his time. He writes (to Pierre Favre, a.k.a. Peter Faber):

"I will describe what I myself do and, I trust in the Lord, will continue doing in this regard so as to avoid mistakes when writing to members of the Society [of Jesus]. I make a first draft of the main letter, reporting things that will be edifying; then, after reading it over and correcting it, keeping in mind that it is going to be read by everybody, I write or have someone write it out a second time. For we must give even more thought to what we write than to what we say. Writing is permanent and gives lasting witness; we cannot mend or reinterpret it as easily as we can our speech. And even with all this I am sure I make many mistakes, and fear doing so in the future. I leave for the separate pages other details that are inappropriate for the main letter or lacking in edification. These pages each one can write hastily 'out of the overflow of the heart,' with or without careful organization. But this may not be tolerated in the main letter: it must be composed carefully and edifyingly, so that it can be shown around and give edification."

Saint Ignatius was the most prolific letter writer of his time. So, he knew a thing or two about writing letters. And his advice is well-taken for those of us too whose writing "gives permanent and lasting witness."

Vocation Crises

2010-07-23T08:45:00.003-04:00

I'm as concerned about increasing vocations to the priesthood and the religious life as much as the next person. I try to do my part to encourage those who are discerning such a life, and get involved in the Jesuit efforts at inviting others to share our life as much as possible. I want people to have the joy of living the life that I have the privilege of having been invited to. I also know that this life isn't for everybody. But I am convinced that there is a life that is for everybody--a life lived in relationship with God.

So, when I think of a "vocation crisis" these days (and I think I have even a greater awareness of it when I'm in Europe, as I am now), I think more of the fact that it seems that fewer young people are even making a choice to live a life that involves God. I meet lots of young people who are dedicated to a sort of humanism (for lack of a better word), but whom are indifferent to the question of God's presence or influence in their lives. Yet, how can you fault many of them who are doing generous and even heroic work for others in need? And how can you can convince them that they need God, when many of them are living much better and more virtuous lives than many who do claim a relationship with God or Jesus? If we believe our theology--"the desire for God is written in the human heart"--it seems that we could appeal to some sense that they have that they are missing something. But what if they don't? Christians as committed as Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who died for his faith in God, have questioned whether we really do have this innate desire for God. Of course, he did it in the context of profound evil. Yet, there are many today who are working to help others in similar situations of evil, in may different parts of the world. Many of them are not motivated by God or any religious impulse. Or are they, and they just don't know it? In the context of today's greater social and cultural awareness, this appears a very arrogant thing to say. I want to believe it is true but, like Bonhoeffer, I am starting to have some doubts.

Given these realities, I'm starting to think about how we as Christians might address what seems the real vocation crisis that lies at the heart of all the others. How do we convince people that having a relationship with God is important, when they seem to be getting along well enough without it? Often at times of crisis people seem to be more aware of this need. But does that mean that we have to wait until we can be crisis counselors? That doesn't seem to be the right answer. And while we could set about manufacturing a crisis for somebody, I'm uncomfortable with the moral implications of this strategy. In my own case, I hope that people would see that my relationship with God is the thing that drives my life, but often enough this doesn't seem to register with those for whom God is not on their radar screen. Even the natural or even skeptical questions I might expect (and welcome) are never asked. Yet there has to be some way to break through this all.

I have friends who consider themselves non-religious. Yet, they have spiritual inclinations that help me see God seeping into some of their cracks. But it's a slow process. But maybe there is also something of an answer in it. It may be that for many it just takes a long time for God to break through. But I'm going to keep thinking about how I might be able to help.

Summer Spirituality: Free Samples!

2010-07-16T14:50:00.004-04:00

Looking for a new spiritual reading this summer? Saint Anthony Messenger Press is offering free samples of several new books (including my own) here.

My Books Are Trapped in New York. Send Photos!

2010-07-13T18:00:00.002-04:00

OK. Since y'all will be seeing my book before I do, let's make this fun at least. Send me your most creative photo of you with a copy of my book in hand, feet, on head, etc. I also wouldn't mind seeing a shot of the back cover. My favorite photo submission gets a prize, to be negotiated. Send to markmossasj@yahoo.com

I'll collect the photos and add a link to them on the book's webpage. If you'd rather your photo not be included there, just let me know.

Thanks.

"Spiritual, but not Religious." Is It Really So Wrong?

2010-07-11T18:51:00.002-04:00

It's become pretty commonplace these days to criticize those who claim to be "spiritual, but not religious." Invoking Saint Ignatius and Soren Kierkegaard in this excerpt from my just released book, Already There, I suggest that maybe we shouldn't be so quick to judge. It might not be the whole deal, but might we consider they may be onto something?:

"Saint Ignatius is not the only one to have such experiences. All of us can fall into the temptation of doing religious things instead of finding out what God wants us to do with our lives. People that claim to be 'spiritual but not religious,' then, are onto something. But it’s not that the spiritual life is a replacement for religion. Rather, it’s that religious practice absent reflection on one’s gifts and talents, one’s interior life and relationship with God, one’s past, present, and future in light of God’s love and God’s will is hollow, no matter how sincere. It’s far easier to go through the motions of religious practices than it is to do the hard work of looking at your life and discovering in it what God is inviting you to do with that life. And, indeed, it is hard because many of us can’t imagine that God would be so concerned with our individual lives. The famous Christian philosopher, Søren Kierkegaard, once described our relationship with God as follows:

'[T]his human being exists before God, may speak with God anytime he wants to, assured of being heard by him—in short, this person is invited to live on the most intimate terms with God! Furthermore, for this person’s sake, also for this very person’s sake, God comes to the world, allows himself to be born, to suffer, to die, and this suffering God—he almost implores and beseeches this person to accept the help that is offered to him! Truly, if there is anything to lose one’s mind over this is it!'”

Tell me what you think here. Comments are open.

On Being At Home, Part 2: The Reason I'm a "Southern" Jesuit

2010-07-09T16:40:00.004-04:00

“South Carolina” is the answer to the question I’m often asked: How did I guy from Massachusetts end up a Jesuit in the New Orleans Province? The summer after I graduated college I worked at a summer camp in Western Massachusetts, where I worked with several young women from South Carolina. I think they were the first people from there I’d ever met. There was something about them, and how they spoke about the place that fascinated me. So, later that year, when I was applying to graduate schools, the rather strange possibility of applying to the University of South Carolina seemed a little less strange.

I know it might seem funny, but my decision to apply to USC was influenced by what might otherwise have been an overlooked “personal touch.” I was applying to grad schools from out of the country, and didn’t have a fixed address. The newest information catalogue was not available, but instead of sending me a form letter, or not responding at all, someone had taken the time to write me a personal note asking me to let them know what address to send the information to me, when it became available. Still, as the acceptance—and rejection—letters came in, my best offer was from Catholic University in Washington, and it seemed I was going there. But, I thought, I had nothing to lose in writing the other places I had been accepted, and seeing if they had something more to offer. I got only one bite. USC offered me a teaching assistantship, which was exactly what I was looking for.

So, South Carolina became the first place that I lived on my own, far away from home. My first friends were the other students in the program, many of whom I liked very much. But I also felt the pull of my spiritual roots, and started getting involved at the Saint Thomas More Catholic Student Center. There I met several friends who, though now we’re scattered all over the country, I still keep in touch with. I also felt another pull back to youth ministry, which led me to a local parish, and a deep, abiding friendship with a group of people who continue to be some of my closest friends. And, because they were “locals,” many of them having grown up in South Carolina, and because they continue to live there, which (sadly) I don’t, South Carolina is a special kind of home, which I try to get back to with some regularity. I write about my experience in South Carolina in my book, Already There:

"I enjoyed my activities at the university’s Catholic center, but I also felt God stirring that desire to give retreats to or teach high school students,as I had done in the past. I arranged a meeting with the youth ministry director in the parish. Remarkably, she already had six people who had volunteered to help that year. I was excited by the prospect of working with such a large team. She, on the other hand, as she admitted to me only some months later after we’d become close friends, had been prepared to suggest I try another parish, since they already had more help than they needed. But we hit it off almost immediately, and when I told her about my desire and my past experience, she couldn’t say no. A few years later, she was one of the first people I told of my decision to apply to become a Jesuit, and the first I asked to write a recommendation for me.

The result was a dream team of sorts. We eight became fast friends and quickly discovered how well our skills complemented one another’s in our work with the parish’s youth. The youth program not only grew and improved, but so did we, because of our care for the young people of the parish and each other. The total impact on my life seems disproportionate to the amount of time it lasted—only about two years. It was an experience of friendship and community I continue to cherish, I’ve carried the picture of the eight of us in all my moves since then, even though that experience could not be sustained. One man was in the army and was transferred, one woman got married and moved to another state, one could no longer find the time, and two of us felt called to answer the need for a youth ministry director at another parish.

Such times, such friends, are great gifts, even if, inevitably they can’t be beside us forever, let alone a few years. By drawing out the best from us, they directly contribute to our becoming what God desires us to be. These were, and continue to be, some of the best and most important friends I’ve had in my lifetime. When I was ordained a priest in New Orleans, after celebrating Mass with friends and family, my next stop was South Carolina. I needed to be with my friends there because, though I had gotten my training from the Jesuits, these were the people who had inspired and nurtured my gifts and my desires in such a way that being a Jesuit and a priest became a real option for me. There’s little coincidence in my mind in the fact that four of them were with me that day, listening to the same priest talk, when God placed the question in my mind, “Why aren’t you doing that?” In our work together, and in our care and love for each other, they had already, in a sense, asked me the same question."

Spiderman, Barack Obama & Me

2010-06-16T10:10:00.005-04:00

A friend pointed out something to me the other day that is quite funny. If you search my name on Amazon.com, you get four results: my two books, my author page and an issue of the Spiderman comic featuring Spiderman and Barack Obama on the cover. I have no connection with this particular comic book (or any comic book, for that matter), but I do find it funny that this should come up. Though the explanation seems little more than that there are two people involved with the comic, one named "Mark" and the other named "Mossa," it still seems in some ways apropos. Though I was never avid comic book reader or collector, I have always been fascinated with superheroes. Certainly it must go along with my interest in sci-fi and fantasy (which is about all I read when I was a kid), but I've always been fascinated by stories of people with special powers, or those who make the most of what they have. When I was just beginning to read, I loved also to read stories about strange phenomena like the Bermuda triangle or Easter island. It was about that same time when my best friend and I would play "Batman & Robin," plotting strategies against our evil enemy--his older sister.

Thus, all my life I have believed that we are capable of doing more than we think we can, even what some insist might be "impossible." That is why, as a Christian, though I often let fear get in the way, I have always taken Jesus at his word when he said that we can do greater things than we think ourselves capable of, even greater things than he! I have found this to be true, not necessarily in dramatic "superhero" type ways, but often in simple ways. For me, this is apparent in moments in ministry when I find myself doing things that I thought I'd never do, overcoming anxiety to enter into someone else's pain to the extent that in some way I can feel it too, or saying or doing just the right thing, and later wondering and being amazed knowing that "just right" thing came from somewhere beyond me. I could not have come up with that on my own. I could not have done that, without God.

As far as Barack Obama, I don't really have much to say. And, unfortunately these days, you can't mention a political figure without sparking a firestorm of contempt or even hate in some people. But one can hardly deny that simply by being elected president, he accomplished something many thought to be impossible. To get there, he too had to get to a moment when he thought the "impossible" possible. This was a key moment for me in my discernment to become a priest. Some priests, perhaps, knew they could do it long before they actually did. For me, it took a while before I got to a point where I thought, "you know, I just might be able to do this," and it wasn't until I got there that I was able to apply to the Jesuits, and get started in the process. That was about 15 years ago, and I celebrated two years as a priest, just this week. Not only has it proven to be possible, but it seems like I've been doing it much longer than that!

It doesn't take the bite of a genetically altered super-spider for us to do amazing things. Jesus said with just a little faith, we can do the impossible. What impossible things have you done lately? Or what might you be being called to do?

On Being at Home, Part 1: The Place From Which I Escaped

2010-06-13T18:03:00.002-04:00

As I sit on the porch of my former residence in New Orleans this week, watching the streetcars go by, I realize that though it’s been five years since I’ve lived here (and 15 years since that fateful first visit), I always feel at home here. There are three places that I can say that about. The first is, of course, Massachusetts, where I grew up, and where I still have spent the majority (about two thirds) of my life. The other is Columbia, SC, where I spent five of the most important years of my life, years without which I could not possibly have ended up where I am today. It is impossible to speak of that time as “only” five years, because so much happened during that time. Likewise the two years I actually lived in New Orleans. It’s hard to explain, but I knew after my first visit to New Orleans in 1995, that this place was going to hold a significant place in my future.

I started reflecting on why these places hold such significance for me. True, I haven’t lived many other places, but there are places I have lived, like Tampa (with apologies to my friends there), where I’m not sure that I could have ever felt at home. I realized that these places do hold something in common. They are each places that marked significant turning points in my life. Massachusetts is home in a much more ephemeral sense. The town in which I spent the first years of my conscious life—thought I now have almost no connection with it—still seems more like home than the town in which I lived most of my time “growing up.” I always felt an outsider there, which I was reminded of when I attended my nephew’s high school graduation there a couple of weeks ago. Any affection I had for that town lasted perhaps only the two-and-a-half years it took me to finish grade school there. After that it turned into a personal hell which I would soon have to escape from by going to school elsewhere. Yet, my interest in books and literature stems in many ways from that time. It was the librarians who provided an important way station for me, where I could escape for at least a little while. They nurtured me and knew me in ways that many of my teachers didn’t or couldn’t. My “hometown” would really only truly become important as the home base from which I engaged a broader world. My desire not to be there led me to so many different places, meeting friends and having experiences that I would not have had if my urge hadn’t been so often to be elsewhere. Already then it was beginning to become clear that I was destined to be the most traveled of my family.

It’s interesting that the place which I spent so much time escaping over the years, has now become a place I frequently visit. It’s not because people in town know me, or that it’s a place of “old friends” (I said ‘hello’ to my former next-door neighbor there a couple of weeks ago, and it was clear that he had no idea who I was). Rather, I go there because my family is there. I go there because my sister and her family (and, at times, my parents) live in that same house we grew up in. Now, strangely, I’m content to just stay there with my niece and nephews and my family, playing games, talking or watching TV. There is no reason to escape. It is a place more special and more “home” now because I have watched my niece and nephews grow up there, not because I grew up there. This home is the place where I left my family behind for a different world, and also where I learned, however late, that I could love and cherish my family in my sincere, but still imperfect way.

Crazy Summer

2010-06-09T13:37:00.002-04:00

Especially for those of us who continue to live on an academic schedule, summertime is when the “hyphenated” part of Jesuit priesthood can become most pronounced. We tend to take a break from our regular work, and do something else for a time. Summer is also the time when we typically do our annual 8-day retreat, spend some time with family, and vacation with other Jesuits for a little while. It is sometimes hard to figure exactly how to fit all these things together, but it is also nice to be able to look forward to these things each summer. Right now, in fact, I’m spending a few days in Mississippi, near the beach, with several other Jesuit friends.

This summer is especially interesting for me, since it will be pulling me in multiple directions. My “job” this summer starts in a couple of weeks. Along with a few others members of the faculty, I’ll be accompanying students from Loyola University in New Orleans on a summer program abroad in Belgium. There I will serve as one of the priests for the group and also teach a course in Catholicism. It will also be a new experience for me, as I’ve never been there before. Like most of the students, I will be experiencing most things there for the first time! I’m also looking forward to putting aside my own studies for a bit, and just teaching. Teaching is one of my favorite things!

In the meantime, I will also have my writer’s cap on as well. Some time during the course of the summer, perhaps even while I’m still in Belgium, my new book will be released. I’ve already begun doing various things to promote the book, and that will continue through the summer. I’ve also got a new project I will be working on, a book which will focus on some of the spiritual writings of Saint Ignatius Loyola. Along with teaching, that will be another part of my summer “job.”

When I return from Belgium, I’ll go straight to Atlanta, where I’ll be helping to lead the young adult retreat at our retreat house there, for the third straight year! They haven’t gotten sick of me yet! Last year we had a full house, and it’s a wonderful retreat. If you are a young adult living near Atlanta, come join us the first full weekend of August!

Then it’ll be back to New York City to finish up some of the summer’s work, and get ready for a new school year at Fordham. The end of summer always leaves me feeling refreshed, tired of traveling and looking forward to learning and teaching some new things. This year I’ll have the added challenge of balancing my life as an author-priest with my life as a student-priest. But I think this added challenge will probably be good. I’ve found over the years that often it is when I have the most going on, that I get the most done! No doubt that has something to do with why I chose this life.

Happy Summer, everyone!

FOLLOW ME

2010-06-09T12:40:00.004-04:00

Dear GODsTALKed followers,

Come follow me at my book companion blog, Spoiler Alert, and get the latest updates on what's happening with my soon to be published book!

You can also discover where that map on the cover leads . . .

There There: Now Available for Pre-Order

2010-06-01T19:14:00.004-04:00

The promotion wheels are now in gear and spinning!

You can now catch the first glimpse of my book, Already There: Letting God Find You, at Amazon.com.

It's now available for pre-order, so why wait?!

I'm happy to say that I like the cover!

As we get closer to publication, there will be updates on the book's web companion--Spoiler Alert--which features a Soundtrack for the book, suggestions of movies to watch before reading (that'll keep you busy until the book arrives), and the latest news. I'm allowing moderated comments there. And if you want to know more, you can always catch me at the e-mail link on my blogger profile page.

Big Think: Fr. James Martin

2010-05-19T12:00:00.002-04:00

A good interview with Fr. James Martin, SJ on being a Jesuit, Priest and Catholic today:

The Annoyed Man in White

2010-05-14T10:50:00.005-04:00

So, OK, maybe I shouldn't have preached about those "annoying men in white," but I was advised to keep it short, and was hoping to get people's attention. That I did (or didn't), but not exactly in the way I'd hoped.

Back in the days when I was an altar boy, I used to find it a bit shocking that the priest could get angry about what did (or didn't) happen at Mass. Priests weren't supposed to get angry. I was reminded of this, because I almost lost it yesterday. The new lavalier microphone wasn't switching on and off properly. I had to keep pulling it out to check it, because the switch was jamming and then, even still, it didn't seem to be working right. So, the congregation, and the web audience, were only able to hear some of that part of the mass. This was distracting enough.

Add to that that twice in the course of the mass, I was informed that we were going to do this, instead of that (presumably because of the significant number of latecomers arriving). This largely involved Communion, so suddenly the altar was crowded with vessels that weren't originally supposed to be there, leaving me to have to try to organize the mess in some way. And did I mention that I was told before the mass that they wanted to finish in about 35 minutes?! Pressure, distraction and disruption made it very hard to celebrate the Ascension. Instead, I was frustrated and angry. It took a grand effort not to shout at the liturgy coordinator after mass. Instead, after making the strong effort to pleasantly greet people as they left, I more or less just got out of there, and tried to collect myself.

Up there with those "annoying men in white," was one annoyed man in white. Me.

These days I understand better why, when I was a young altar boy, Father wasn't always perfect, and sometimes not even nice.

Those Annoying Men in White

2010-05-13T11:25:00.002-04:00

A brief reflection for the Feast of the Ascension:

You’ve no doubt heard of the “Men in Black,” that elite team that saves the world from aliens. But in today’s readings we hear not from them, but from the men in white, or as the beginning of the chapter from where today’s Gospel reading is taken has it, the men in “dazzling garments.” The men in white ask annoying questions. In the last chapter of Luke, they ask the shocked women who have arrived to find Jesus’ tomb empty, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?” In the first chapter of the book of Acts, also thought to have been written by Luke, they appear again, just after the Apostles have watched Jesus ascend into the sky in a cloud, asking, “Why are you standing there looking at the sky?” As if it wasn’t obvious!

As annoying as these questions seem, they also serve as a challenge to the people to whom they are posed. Yes, you have just seen something amazing, they seem to be saying, but it’s not like you weren’t told to expect this. So, don’t just stand there, you’ve got work to do!

They—and we—are being reminded of what our second reading today also seeks to remind us, “Let us hold unwaveringly to our confession that gives us hope, for Jesus, who made the promise is trustworthy.” In these days after our celebration of Easter we have been holding on to this hope given us by Jesus’ resurrection. Today, in the Ascension of Jesus, we are invited to take a step further, to trust that in the gift of the Holy Spirit, given after Jesus’ ascension, God was and continues to be with us. And when we see God’s Spirit active in our lives, as we all can if we just look into the faces of our family and friends and at the things that we’re thankful for, we should stand in awe and wonder. But not for too long. Otherwise, those men in white will come along, with their annoying questions, reminding us, “Don’t just stand their twiddling your thumbs.” Now that you’ve seen God’s spirit working in your life. Now that you know that Jesus has kept his promises. It’s time to get out there and share this with everybody else!

Edited Out

2010-05-07T16:56:00.002-04:00

I've spent a good part of the last week looking over the initial galley proof pages of my forthcoming book Already There: Letting God Find You, which now even has it's own Library of Congress catalogue number! It's exciting to start to see what the book will actually look like! But the process is a little bit like an emotional roller coaster! This is the first chance to see the edited version. And, of course, I realized that I have NO objectivity with regard to what has been changed or left out from my original manuscript. Has my voice been taken away? How could the editor change that! That doesn't even sound like me! Then, of course, you look back at the original manuscript, which you haven't read in a while (it was finished almost a year ago at this point), and you realize about some of these things--Oh, I did write that. Then you feel embarrassed, and a little guilty for those thoughts you had (briefly, of course) about your editor. But realizing my lack of objectivity, I sought the aid of my friend who knows my writing well, and who is also not afraid to be brutally honest, if necessary. We sat in a diner yesterday, and went through the pages together. She commiserated with me over some of the changes, pointed out a few things she didn't like, but also kept repeating, this is really good. That's what I really needed her for, and needed to hear. I just needed somebody to read it and tell me it would be OK--even more than OK.

I keep trying to remind myself that the book is not for me. It's for the young adults for whom I wrote it. So long as it speaks to them, and helps them, it doesn't really matter if one of my favorite parts is missing. That, of course, doesn't mean I didn't do my share of saying things like, "we really need to do this." But I was also able to let several things go. It also helped that a certain writer friend of mine told me of his best-selling book, "my editor took out some of my funny stories. And it probably made it better." So, I can breathe. Especially since, as of this morning, the corrections are in the mail!

Looking forward to seeing how it's all going to turn out. But the neuroses are not over yet. I'm still terrified that I'm going to hate the cover when I finally see it! But I'm asking God for patience, trust, and humility. All will be well. Repeat.

V's Father Jack

2010-05-02T17:49:00.003-04:00

I've been watching the show "V." It intrigues me, though I can't say I'm a huge fan. But one of the things that is most interesting and novel about it is that one of its main characters is a priest. Unfortunately, while they try to make the character interesting, he's more of a cliche than anything else. Not to mention a bit unrealistic.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "C'mon, Father, it's scifi--it's not meant to be realistic!" Sure. But it can't be totally ridiculous either. For example, how does Father Jack take care of his pastoral duties, when he seems to be spending all his time being an insurgent against the Vs? The occasional scene of him holding a rosary doesn't quite do the trick. True, he does serve as the conscience of the group sometimes, but the character needs to be filled out!

And I have to mention the most ridiculous thing of all. One can only conclude from his wardrobe, that he's not very bright. If I were engaging in subversive activities, like he and his rebel group are, you can be sure I wouldn't be wearing my collar all the time, like he does! Just think of the report from the witnesses to an attack by the insurgent group: "I didn't get a good look at them, but one of them was a priest." That narrows down the list of suspects quite a bit. You can imagine someone asking the obvious question: "What kind of idiot wears a Roman collar to a bombing?" Indeed. Father Jack needs to wise up, instead of just getting weepy-eyed every time they come up against a morally questionable situation.

But here's where the V producers could really do something interesting, which they haven't. So far, really, it doesn't matter that he's a priest. He could just as well have been a social worker. What they need to do is make the fact that he's a priest mean something. For example, wouldn't the arrival of aliens sort of rock the world of many people who are deeply religious? Shouldn't he be questioning how this fits in with his faith in God? Since they have a priest character, they ought to take advantage of the opportunity to explore the theological issues involved. For example, might he be wondering about the status of the Vs within his theological worldview? And what about the V-human baby, can and should it be baptized? What are the implications of his involvement in the fight against the Vs for his priesthood? Might it mean that he might have to take time off from being a priest? Should he have a spiritual director/friend of some sort with whim he an take up such questions?

I guess part of my frustration is that priest-characters usually come off one way or another. They are either one-dimensional, or being lured away from their vows. Refreshingly, so far it is not the latter, but the character needs some help. Father Jack needs to be more a priest, and less the weepy-eyed conscience figure. And for God's sake, Father Jack, if you find yourself bringing a gun along somewhere, lose the clerics! You could bring down the whole resistance by being so identifiable.

And while we're on that subject, why hasn't the savvy terrorist they've recruited to help them told Father Jack this already??!! You'd think he would have realized the problem from day 1, mate.

Fr. Walter Ciszek, Pray For Us

2010-04-27T07:53:00.003-04:00

Sorry I've gone so quiet. The last three weeks have been non-stop work! Hope to have something new, soon. In the meantime, get to know one of my favorite Jesuits, Fr. Walter Ciszek. His cause for sainthood is being promoted.

The Priest Who Died Three Times

BY: LOUISE PERROTTA

The first time Walter Ciszek "died" was in 1947. The American Jesuit had disappeared in 1940, shortly after slipping into Communist Russia to work as an underground priest. After seven years, his family and religious community gave him up for dead.

But the priest had been arrested on charges of espionage, and swallowed up into the Soviet prison system. Not until 1955, when Fr. Ciszek got a letter to his sister in Pennsylvania, did anyone outside the Iron Curtain suspect he was alive. When he was sent back to the United States in 1963—traded for two Russian agents—it seemed like a return from the dead.

Ciszek died for real on December 8, 1984, at age eighty, two decades after being released. But in between these two demises, he underwent a death—and a resurrection—of quite another sort. . .

read the rest here.

Young Women & Catholicism

2010-04-08T07:36:00.002-04:00

Tonight at Fordham I'm helping to host an event on how young women experience being Catholic. For the event, we've invited Jen Owens and Kate Dugan, the editors of From the Pews in the Back: Young Women & Catholicism, to come and speak about their collection of essays from young Catholic women. We've also invited some undergraduate women here at Fordham to speak about their own experience. If you're in the New York area, come join us tonight, from 5:30-7:00, at Fordham University in the Bronx at Tognino Hall, located in the Duane Library. You might remember my post from about a year ago, which spoke to the issue of women in the Church. I'll add that when I shared this experience with an older Jesuit priest, whom I knew was sympathetic to my concerns, his response was "get used to it." But do we really have to get used to it? That is among the questions we'll explore tonight. I'm looking forward to it!

Could We Be Heroes?

2010-04-02T12:48:00.005-04:00

The other day an older Jesuit, who has been working at one of our high schools for decades, asked me, “why would an 18-year old boy want to be a Catholic?” “Who are his role models?”

It was, admittedly, not so easy to come up with an answer. You could answer by pointing to Mother Teresa, or John Paul II, perhaps. But you immediately run into certain problems, even with these figures. In America, at least, we face something of a crisis. Our Catholic heroes are not idolized, instead we have allowed them to become “ideologicalized.”

Take John Paul II. “Conservative” Catholics have claimed him, and “liberal” Catholics have given in. Forget that along with his traditional ecclesiology, he also insisted upon the preferential option for the poor. Forget that in addition to his strong stance against abortion and euthanasia, he also closed the door on most, if not all, Catholic justification of the death penalty, was a passionate promoter of non-violence and consistently spoke out against war throughout his pontificate. Conservatives have claimed the parts of him which fit their agenda, and liberals have allowed it by doing such things as calling more traditional young priests whom they disapprove of as “JPII priests,” or the JPII generation.”

This conversation brought home to me what I knew intuitively, but hadn’t realized so starkly up until this point. We have given up on “Catholic” heroes, and have made heroes of Catholics who fit into nice, little, ideological boxes. Gone are the days when a Thomas Merton, Dorothy Day or Fulton Sheen could be looked up to by most Catholics. Today, conservative Catholics would object to Dorothy Day for being a pacifist, and accuse her (as Glen Beck did just recently) of being a Communist (true, some did back then, too). Merton would be looked on with suspicion because of his interest in Eastern religion. And Fulton Sheen would make liberals uncomfortable because of his extreme concern with Communism perhaps, but even more so because he was a member of the hierarchy.

Can one be a Catholic hero in America today without being claimed by one of these ideological camps? Or maligned by one? It seems like any would be Catholic hero has to be a conservative hero or a liberal hero, neither of whom turns out in the end—at least according to my understanding of what it means to be Catholic—to be a very Catholic hero. The greatest Catholic heroes, the Saints, have never been those that could be easily fit into these little boxes. They are saints precisely because of their expansiveness and broad appeal. Some of them, indeed, were persecuted—even killed—by the Church. And the Church in her wisdom recognized her mistake by proclaiming their sanctity. This in itself might give us pause before we are so quick to condemn those we deem insufficiently Catholic.

And what are the consequences for young people today? They see a version of Church that speaks of intolerance and exclusion, one in which one could not possibly be a hero without holding all the correct opinions and participating in the right youth group, club or political party. This is a church which becomes more and more distant from their experience as members of a society which while certainly imperfect, at least makes an effort at being tolerant of difference, and recognizing the worth of all. I was once naïve enough (and I still hope that younger people today might fight to hold on to such naivete) to believe that this ideal, however unrealized, was mirrored in the pro-life movement of the Church. After all, aren’t we as Catholics devoted to affirming the dignity and sacredness of all human life? I thought so when, as a youth, I became involved in pro-life activities. But quickly I realized that many of those whom I prayed or protested with against abortion, the death penalty, war, etc. were really only dedicated to the dignity and sacredness of some human life. And they frequently showed little regard for the dignity of those who didn’t agree with their particular form of extremism (even some who were on “their side”). There were no heroes for me there. Heck, I didn’t even want to be around most of them, except for the minority which were the most humble and sincere, and who persevered despite being embarrassed by many of the more vocal members of the group.

This was my experience as a young adult, and I fear it’s only gotten worse. When I ask my students if as Catholics they feel a strong pull, as I did at their age, to become associated with one camp or another, they say the tendency among them and their Catholic peers is to simply become apathetic about the Church. They may not even have a strong idea of what it means to be Catholic, but still they can see the lie in many of the ways of being Catholic that they are being offered. They are still idealistic enough to believe that being Catholic means loving each other, and too often that is something that many of those being offered as heroes to them don’t seem too concerned about.

As that becomes increasingly the case, that question asked by that older Jesuit seems far less cynical than it seemed on first hearing, and far more urgent.

Maybe the child can lead us? Maybe we need to look to our young people, and how they see the Church, to help bring us back from the brink of being a Church of arguing oldsters, trying to lure an increasingly less interested younger constituency to our little corner of the Catholic world.

CGI Jesus in 3-D

2010-03-13T16:10:00.003-05:00

I thought I'd share with you the homily referenced in the previous post:

Today’s readings contain two dramatic and epic moments which, if adapted into a movie might require the talents of a director like James Cameron, Ridley Scott or Peter Jackson. They are moments that while foreign to us, might not seem out of place in, say, the Middlearth of The Lord of the Rings.

While care would have to be taken to make sure no animals were really harmed in the filming of the encounter between God and Abram from the first reading, just imagine what it would be like to see that giant smoldering pot and the flaming torch floating through the air toward a disoriented and hypnotized Abram, a testament to God’s friendship with him and his descendants. Abram could not but fall on his knees in awe of such a display.

Or imagine putting on your 3-D glasses and watching as the CGI Jesus bursts into a figure of dazzling white light, and settles into a conversation with an equally dazzling Moses and Elijah. Like Peter, awakened to this spectacle, your reaction, like his suggestion of the building of tents, might very well appear unequal to the moment. How do you respond to something the likes of which you’ve never seen before? And, then, even as you realize Jesus’ puzzlement at your babbling, large, menacing clouds start to fill the sky, and with them comes a voice, demanding your attention, proclaiming of this newly revealed Jesus, “This is my chosen Son. Listen to him.” And then, suddenly, as if it were all a dream, everything looks as it did when you first arrived.

As you take off your 3-D glasses, and rise from your seat, you might ask in wonder, “Man, why can’t I have encounters with God like that?” Then, I would really know that God was a part of my life. That is, of course, if afterwards you didn’t convince yourself that it was all a hallucination or a dream.

But is this really what we would need to kickstart our relationship with God, or might it instead just scare the Jesus out of us?

For while such spectacles might wake us up, dazzle us and grab our attention, the real question is: can they keep it? Do they keep our attention?

Perhaps it is not the image of the fiery torch and pot from that first reading that is meant to stay with us. Maybe the more enduring image we’re meant to take away is the far more ordinary one of Abram gazing up at the sky, trying to count the stars. Haven’t we all at some time in our lives known the wonder of doing something more ordinary, like that? Of looking up in the starlit sky, or at the ocean, or even the wonder of things built by the inspiration of human imagination, and thinking that there is something more at work in the world than just molecules and us.

God shows Abram those stars to make him a promise about the future, and the future of his descendants, the same promise being made in the more dramatic episode to follow. Yet, that drama would have had no meaning if Abram hadn’t first looked to the stars and as a result, we are told, put his faith in the Lord. The pot and the torch are pretty impressive, but from now on, if Abram wants a reminder of God’s promises to him, he only needs to look up at the sky.

So, if you are waiting for that epic, Hollywood moment to really get you started in your life with God, you are probably in for a long, and frustrating, search. Epic moments like the Transfiguration of Jesus are few and far between. And they don’t come to many. Notice that only 3 of the 12 Apostles were even present for this one. And, honestly, billowing clouds and voices from the sky don’t speak so convincingly to us of God’s presence as do quiet moments in prayer, times of joy and sadness and the intimate moments that come when we care for each other.

Almost ten years ago I accompanied eleven Fordham students to Calcutta, India for two weeks. It was my first time there. I was, of course, struck by the poverty. I expected that we would find God in our work with Mother Teresa’ Missionaries of Charity. And certainly we did. But for me, God was made most present when I watched the students that were with me, as they took the time to feed those too weak to feed themselves, as they played with the children at the orphanage where many of them worked and in the attention they paid to the poor children we met on the street. I’ve seen few greater examples in my life of someone doing precisely what Jesus says in the Gospel as when one of our students literally took the shirt off his back, and gave it to a child who didn’t have one. It was an intimate expression of God’s care that wasn’t lost on me, even if, at the time, it didn’t even occur to him.

Now, of course, we don’t have to go all the way to Calcutta to see God working this way in our lives, and in the lives of others. But sometimes we do need a change of scenery, or at least a change in perspective to discover that we may have missed out on the fact that God was there with us, all along. I didn’t have to go all the way to India to see how powerfully God could work through the love and generosity of a Fordham student. It happens here everyday. Heck, when I wasn’t frightened for my life, I’ve even seen it on the Ram van. That’s right, I said it, you can find God on the Ram Van sometimes. And to see how many of you have come here to Church this Sunday night, dare I say that you might just be able to find God in that person sitting next to you, or behind you.

We’ll also get to see that in a special way here tonight as we commission those students who will be spending their Spring Break in various places around the country and the world getting that change of scenery and perspective which hopefully will help them to see God working in their lives and in the lives of others, especially in an encounter with those most in need of not just material things, but in simply knowing God’s presence with them in the love, and the care of other human beings. This is a fitting example for Lent, a time when we speak of “giving things up.” Some may not even realize it yet, but they may be giving up other things they could be doing for Spring Break for an experience that might change their lives in ways they never imagined. But even if you’re spending your break working, or going on vacation or, God forbid, doing homework, that doesn’t mean the opportunity is not there for you as well.

What these moments in the readings today are meant to represent to us is the fact that God finds all sorts of ways to be present in our lives, even ways that might strike as unusual. There are people like Cardinal Avery Dulles, who taught here for many years, whose lives were changed simply because one day he took the time to consider the beauty of a tree. There are others like Mother Teresa whose life was changed by stopping to help a man who was dying in the street. And there are others, like all of us, who can catch a glimpse of God by watching John the Fordham student take the shirt off his back, and give it to a child who didn’t have one. But most of the ways we encounter God would hardly make good Hollywood drama because they come to us in the everyday events and people of our lives, and we can’t imagine how often we once missed them when some change of scenery, or maybe just a new way of thinking causes us, like those 3-D glasses, to see things in a different way.

You Just Never Know

2010-03-11T20:20:00.004-05:00

I'm often left wondering after Mass whether the words of my homily had any impact. Often, I just have to leave it up to God. But, every once in a while someone gives you a glimpse. That's why I was pleased to read this is in this week's Fordham student newspaper (Note: the "ram van" is the regular shuttle which ferries students and faculty back and forth between our Bronx and Manhattan campuses):

Two Sundays ago, I attended my first Mass at Fordham, the 9 p.m. service at the University Church. As a member of GO! Nashville, I participated in the commissioning ceremony preceding Sunday Mass. Attending church was not mandatory, but I tagged along with my teammates. The decision to join my friends was made out of proximity; I was already in the basement, so why not sit upstairs for an hour? I never avoided church due to religious reasons, but because of immature procrastination and laziness.

I carried into that church with me every misguided misconception that an ignorant Protestant could believe. I thought the communion wafer was nothing more than a revered Ritz cracker and the sign of the cross an adaptation of the Hand Jive.

My lack of Catholic upbringing was on display throughout Mass, as I fumbled over the wording of prayers and disrupted the harmony of the hymns. Later, Father Mossa declared that God is present at Fordham, “even on the Ram Van,” applying Jesuit teachings to everyday situations across campus. Following the sermon, he directed the blessing of the GO! Teams. As I turned around to confront my peers, I saw the faces of my friends, classmates, and professors. The church was filled with Fordham’s diverse community, looking at me, arms outstretched, supporting my impending trip to Nashville. That night was not about the epic saga of Catholics versus Protestants: it was about community.

I left the church without a religious epiphany but with an appreciation for the church I so vehemently evaded. The sanctuary of that church assembled the most diverse collection of students I have yet to find at Fordham, a sense of community absent in my Fordham experience to that point. While there is no impending Catholic conversion in my future, I certainly will be back this Sunday.

You can read the whole article here.

With God in Russia

2010-03-08T17:36:00.003-05:00

Fr. Anthony Corcoran, SJ is someone you should know about. He is a Jesuit of my province who went to work in Russia after being ordained a priest. He spent 11 years working in Siberia, and has some amazing stories about encountering the Church as it has survived, even during the time of the Soviet Union.

Last year, an as yet completely explained event happened in Moscow. The Jesuit regional superior for Russia, and another Jesuit were murdered. Fr. Tony was then asked to become the new regional superior of the Jesuits in Russia. The international Jesuit website has an interview with him, which you can access here.

He speaks about his work in Siberia, dealing with the grief and the legal issues associated with the murders, living now in Moscow and being superior of the Jesuits working in Russia.

sTALKING GOD

2010-03-05T00:23:00.003-05:00

A while back I was listening to Death Cab for Cutie's song, "I will possess your heart." One of the verses goes like this: How I wish you could see the potential/The potential between you and me/Like a book elegantly bound/But in a language that you can't read, just yet . . .

The refrain continues: You've got to take some time, love/You've got to take some time, with me/And I know that you'll find, love/I will possess your heart.

In my typical fashion, I started to think what it might be like if God were saying this. What if we saw this as an invitation from God? From that perspective, it is quite a moving invitation. God is inviting us to something "elegant," even if we can't understand it, just yet.

Of course, if you go deeper, you become aware that this probably isn't what the song is really talking about. Indeed, it's most certainly meant to be the words of a man obsessed with a woman. From that perspective, things are a little different. In fact, it gets kind of creepy. This is the song of a stalker!

But, as strange as this suddenly becomes, I also find I quite like the image of God as someone who is stalking us, as someone who watches us lovingly, and longs to possess our heart. When it's God that has that depth of passion, it's pretty awesome! Even though, if it were anybody else, it would probably just be creepy.

But I think we are all God-stalked, and that we all long to hear God talk to us. But it may be in a language we can't read--just yet.

This blog is about what happens when we start to learn the language of GODsTALK.

McPriesty

2010-03-04T19:31:00.003-05:00

My friend, Jesuit priest and author Jim Martin, is the focus of a USA Today feature story. He speaks about something we have in common (besides being Jesuit priests), the interest in finding God in popular culture. He also talks about his new book:

He writes in The Jesuit Guide that "within the Christian tradition, all spiritualities, no matter what their origins, have the same focus — the desire for union with God, an emphasis on love and charity, and a belief in Jesus as the Son of God."

It's about making a God-centered life accessible to the doubtful as well as the devout, he says.

It's about realizing that when you are most vulnerable — sick, out of work, lonely, afraid, "God can move through your defenses, strengthen and accompany you."

And there's a radical simplicity to that, Martin says.

He says Ignatian spirituality "does not ask you to become a half-naked, twig-eating, cave-dwelling hermit. It simply invites you to live simply."

Gotta love that last line! Read the whole article here.

Changes of Title

2010-03-04T08:41:00.002-05:00

No, you haven't landed on the wrong page.

I just thought it was time to retire as a "rookie priest." I'll continue to explore the new experiences of priesthood. Though I'm not quite a rookie anymore, I still have my share of "first time" experiences.

But I will also begin to explore more specifically the challenges and the consolations of being a "hyphenated priest." This is one of the things that drew me to religious life in the Society of Jesus. Jesuits tend to have dual identities or multiple identities which demand a good deal of their time. So, one is often a priest and . . .

In my case, at least for now, I'm a student-priest, a professor-priest and a writer-priest. These occupations are not peripheral to my priesthood but, rather, are transformed and enhanced by the fact that I'm a priest. My approach to teaching and my relationship with my students is different because I'm a Jesuit and a priest. Indeed, I think it makes me a better teacher. The lines get blurred a little when, because I'm a priest, a student shares something with me or asks my help with something as a priest. I have to switch identities, while also maintaining certain boundaries (the student needs to be aware that sharing his or her faith life with me, for example, is not going to improve his or her grade). But it's also a privilege to share more deeply in my students' lives.

In addition to my prayer experience, and my sacramental ministry as a priest, these are also the places where God stalks me and talks to me. And so I'll share how God finds me in both my experience as a priest, and in my "hyphenate" experiences.

Spanish Mass

2010-02-23T20:26:00.002-05:00

On Wednesdays I go to a local parish and say their noon mass, in Spanish. I feel a certain obligation to offer mass in Spanish, because the Jesuits paid for me to learn the language so that I could use it in my ministry. But it is an exercise in humility. Despite the fact that many have told me that my accent and pronunciation of Spanish are quite good (for a gringo!), I have yet to get through a Spanish Mass in which I have pronounced everything right! No matter how much I practice, I always manage to trip over or mispronounce at least a few words. It's frustrating. I try to remind myself that I often do the same in English [!] (you can even catch hints of my Woostah accent sometimes), but I still want it to be perfect. I don't always have the time to have someone proofread my homily, so I also know that my grammar isn't always perfect, but they seem to understand the gist of things anyway (occasionally I get a puzzled look that makes me wonder). I never get any complaints, and the people appreciate me coming (and the pastor appreciates the time off).

What's more challenging is that sometimes the people ask for confession afterwards. This takes a bit more effort, because I don't always understand everything they are saying (and maybe that's why they ask!). But in some ways it's nice, because it forces me to be more attentive, and it also forces me to be more attuned to non-verbal cues.

And there's also this sweet older woman who sometimes comes. She'll grab me after mass, insist on giving me five dollars for lunch, and then talk my ear off! The only problem is that she has a very strong accent, and I can't understand half of what she's saying. I smile, nod my head a lot, and try to offer some response to those things that I do understand. There are some common themes I've culled over time, one of which is that she spends a lot of time praying for us priests. Which, it seems to me, means that I can spend a little bit of my time listening to her, even if I'm not sure what she's saying. She doesn't seem to mind.

I've yet to try the full Sunday Spanish mass, and will probably still wait a little while before jumping into that deep end. But I have done the bilingual mass, which I actually quite enjoy. The prayers are mostly in English, with some parts in Spanish, like the penitential rite (yo confieso ante Dios, y ante ustedes hermanos . . .). There's something really cool about writing and giving a homily in both Spanish and English, and doing it in such a way that I'm not just repeating the same thing, but giving people enough to go on in both languages.

Again, I don't get everything perfect. But it's all a good reminder that getting it perfect is not what it's really about, in whatever language.

Temptation

2010-02-21T11:15:00.002-05:00

Today's Gospel is about Jesus' temptation in the desert. As I was preparing my homily, it occurred to me that Tiger Woods' words on Friday were a good illustration of how temptation can sometimes lead to our ruin. So, I shared some of his words in my homily:

I knew my actions were wrong. But I convinced myself that normal rules didn't apply. I never thought about who I was hurting. Instead, I thought only about myself. I ran straight through the boundaries that a married couple should live by. I thought I could get away with whatever I wanted to. I felt that I had worked hard my entire life and deserved to enjoy all the temptations around me. I felt I was entitled. Thanks to money and fame, I didn't have far -- didn't have to go far to find them.

I was wrong. I was foolish. I don't get to play by different rules. The same boundaries that apply to everyone apply to me. I brought this shame on myself. I hurt my wife, my kids, my mother, my wife's family, my friends, my foundation, and kids all around the world who admired me.

As Woods himself acknowledged, simply having said the words of apology doesn't make everything better. This will only happen over time (so true for all of us and our struggles with temptation!) But I thought his words were a good example of the kind of self-reflection which Lent invites us to.

"What are you giving up?"

2010-02-20T17:35:00.002-05:00

A few weeks ago I was chatting with a Fordham student I had just met. Upon learning that I was a Jesuit, she asked, “What are you giving up for Lent?” I thought it was kind of funny that this was the first question out of her mouth especially, as I told her, I hadn’t really thought much about it. Now that Lent has arrived, the question is in the air, and people are already proclaiming their self-denials: chocolate, meat, coffee, dessert, Facebook, the internet, etc. I think this sharing of our Lenten practice is a fine—if sometimes a bit superficial—tradition. It is a reminder to us that giving up that one thing is a symbol of our desire to give up those things that get in the way of our relationship with God. We as Christians are called to take up our crosses, and this means having to give some things up. It is no good to have all that we can, or all that we want, if we lose our souls in the process.

So, kudos to all who choose to give up something for Lent! But beware of giving up things just for the sake of giving things up, or just so you can answer the question when asked (the “peer pressure” model of Lenten practice). Lent, it seems to me, is also invitation to go a bit deeper. To probe one’s depths to see what other things we need to give up, because they interfere in our relationship with God. For many if not most of us, these are Lenten sacrifices that we might not want to share with anyone who asks. These are things just between us and God, and maybe a few of those closest to us. They are not the stuff of casual conversation with someone you’ve just met. But like giving up chocolate can also result in losing a bit of weight, this deeper reflection and decision can help remove the great weights we have been carrying a long time out of habit, fear, indulgence or weakness. These are the idols that obscure God, which we can never seem to completely free ourselves from. But we can peel them away, a little bit at a time, giving some up, while others remain. Lent is a good time for such peeling.

So, along with that student’s question, “What are you giving up for Lent?”, comes God’s question to me, “What are you giving up for good?” This, I’m not going to share with you now, at least not this Lent. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do my best to answer it, for the sake of the One who asks.

The Promised and Long Overdue Wedding Post

2010-01-06T21:44:00.003-05:00

This is for George
So, the wedding:

It’s been nearly two months since my first wedding, and so I’ve had some time to reflect. It was both a wonderful experience and, in some ways, a lonely experience. This is not a criticism, or an effort to make anyone feel bad. I think it’s meant to be that way for what one realizes are obvious reasons. The focus is not meant to be on me at the wedding, but on the couple. Thus, the more I fade into the background, the more the attention is properly placed. It seems to me that, if you’re doing it right, as a priest you do become something of a fifth wheel. You don’t want people fawning over you. You want people’s attention to be focused on the couple, and on enjoying the celebration. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a bit of loneliness that comes with it. The same thing is true sometimes, as I have written about before, right after mass on Sunday.

All that said, what a privilege! What a privilege to be there to witness two people in love making a lifelong commitment to each other, and to witness the love and care that their families and friends have for them. From this perspective, the rehearsal dinner the night before provided some of the most moving moments. The parents, brothers and sisters shared great and humorous stories and expressed with emotion and honesty their love for Cara and Paul, the bride and groom. I teared up a little myself when, while listening to the words of his brother and best man, Paul began to cry. Nothing stirs more emotion in me than when people unabashedly express their love and affection for each other. These are the moments in the movies—and in real life—when I always get a little choked up. I knew that I didn’t want to be up too late the night before the wedding, but I waited until the parents, the best man, and the maid of honor had their say, before making a stealthy exit. I didn’t want to interrupt the great things that were happening by making a show of my departure. And, given the lay out of the room we were in, there was no way to say goodbye without attracting much notice.

The rehearsal and the wedding were not unlike what happens when I visit a parish to say mass for the first time. I want to know how they do things, and they want to know how I want them to do things. Eventually, I have to make some kind of affirmative statement about how I want to do things, even if it’s the way they usually do things anyway. And it usually is. There are, of course, a few things I don’t compromise on, but usually these things are not at issue. So, I say, why don’t we do this . . .

This situation was a little bit different, because I had never witnessed a wedding before. So, I tried to tell the wedding coordinator, “Tell me what to do, because you know what you are doing, and I don’t.” Still, there were a number of times that I was asked, “What do you want to do, Father?” We got through it. One of the groomsman was actually getting ready to enter seminary (interestingly, I was in the same situation as a groomsman just before I entered the novitiate), so he and I had some things to talk about. What I soon learned as we went along was that the rest of the wedding party knew as little about what we were doing as I did. The only problem was that they were counting on me to know what I was doing! I told them—and myself—to try to remember things as best you can. If you forget, somebody will point you in the right direction.
So, the time for the wedding arrived. I was told that things were laid out for me in the sacristy. Here’s where I gained a little confidence about what I was doing. I knew enough to realize that the vestments on the table were the wrong color! So, I went sifting through drawers and closets to find the right ones. Well, at least I know enough to spot that something is wrong, I thought. As we went along, I learned a few things.

The first misstep was when we got to the Gloria. I waited for the music ministers to begin, and nothing happened. And, of course, everyone was looking at me like I’d forgotten something. When this happens, I always have a moment of panic—did I forget something?! Then I realized that the look was not because I’d missed something, but for one of two reasons: 1)They had no idea what was supposed to come next, or 2)They were waiting for me. Now this whole thought process didn’t take as long as it seemed. When I realized it was just that the music ministers were not singing the Gloria (and that I had not forgotten anything), I began: “Glory to God in the highest . . .” Note for the future: Be sure to check before the mass what the musicians are doing, and especially what they are not doing. I spent the rest of the evening looking over to the piano at any time which might call for music. Strangely, the Alleluia wasn’t sung either. There must have been some miscommunication there.
The rest went more or less as planned. The homily had to include mention of the Yankees, as this was the week which they won the World Series, and I had been teasing Paul, who is a fan, from the very beginning about it. This, of course, is required of any self-respecting Red Sox fan like myself. The Saints, who may yet win the Super Bowl, were not to be excluded either! Of course, this was just in passing. My homily focused mostly on the readings, and on my experience of Paul and Cara during the many months they had been preparing for their marriage. At the reception, by the way, there were two cakes: The traditional wedding cake, and a cake made in the shape of a Yankees cap. The latter was obviously made by someone not well schooled in baseball, as the frosting was the wrong shade of blue.

A well-established, though perhaps little known fact, is that the priest usually gets seated at table with someone’s aunt(s) or uncle(s) and, frequently, one of the crazy ones. Those at my table didn’t seem too crazy. This is actually one of the more interesting—and apostolic—parts of the wedding experience. You get to meet some very interesting people. Not only relatives, but friends of the family, parents or significant others of members of the wedding party, etc. Most of them haven’t really had the opportunity to sit down and speak with a priest for a long time, if ever. So, it is an excellent opportunity to be for them a positive experience of Christ and the Church. Many priests I know have told me how so often at weddings they have the opportunity to reconcile somebody with the Church in some way. You never know when you might have the opportunity to do that for somebody, or that it might happen without you ever realizing that you had that impact. This is another reason why I think it is important to keep in mind that, while I sort of get to be at center stage for part of the time, the wedding has little to do with me. Yet, hopefully, my presence for those days, and during my privileged time of guiding them through their preparation, will help them to make God a lasting part of their love, their family, and their life together. Ultimately, the sacrament is about them and God, not about me. But what a privilege it was—and is—to be there!

Still Going . . .

2009-12-01T17:38:00.002-05:00

I've been preoccupied with some health issues lately--not to mention classes--but as you can see from this article on the Fordham website, I'm still managing to do some ministry. It even quotes a previous blogpost!

Enjoy! I'll offer some reflections of my own on the experience of the last couple of months soon.

Blessings for Advent!!

I'm Still Alive, Really!

2009-10-12T20:44:00.002-04:00

All the energy I put into finishing the writing of my book this summer, and moving, not to mention starting a new graduate program here at Fordham, has left me lacking in both time and creative energy. So, that's why you haven't heard from me in a while.

I'm enjoying my new community here a lot. Both the larger community, and the Jesuit community in which I live. I've already had an opportunity to be involved in several masses with the students, which is something I wasn't really given the opportunity to do at BC. I've also started helping with mass and confessions at a nearby parish, which I can walk to!

Lots been happening. So I will have some reflections soon. But right now, I've got a paper to write.

Some have asked about the book. I have received my Imprimi Potest, but we're still seeking some permissions for, of all things, use of song lyrics. The book will appear late summer of next year.

Hope everyone had a nice holiday weekend--if you had one.

In Other Words . . .

2009-10-12T20:38:00.002-04:00

Suck it up, Father! You're a pastor, and they're sick.

A certain amount of discomfort and suffering comes with the job.

Amen! Thank You, Cardinal O'Malley

2009-09-03T13:25:00.003-04:00

Thanks to Cardinal Sean O'Malley for saying what desperately needed to be said:

"Advocating for the dignity of life is central to my role as a priest and a bishop. One of my greatest satisfactions in my ministry thus far was helping to overturn the abortion laws in Honduras. The person who answered my call for help with that effort was Dr. Bernard Nathanson, who had been a prominent leader in NARAL and the abortion rights movement. His own change of heart led Dr. Nathanson from a practice of providing abortions to becoming one of the most eloquent exponents of the pro-life movement.

Helen Alvaré, who is one of the most outstanding pro-life jurists, a former Director of the Bishops´ Pro-life Office and a long standing consultant to the USCCB Committee for Pro-Life Activities, has always said that the pro-life movement is best characterized by what it is for, not against. We are for the precious gift of life, and our task is to build a civilization of love. We must show those who do not share our belief about life that we care about them. We will stop the practice of abortion by changing the law, and we will be successful in changing the law if we change people’s hearts. We will not change hearts by turning away from people in their time of need and when they are experiencing grief and loss.

At times, even in the Church, zeal can lead people to issue harsh judgments and impute the worst motives to one another. These attitudes and practices do irreparable damage to the communion of the Church. If any cause is motivated by judgment, anger or vindictiveness, it will be doomed to marginalization and failure. Jesus’ words to us were that we must love one another as He loves us. Jesus loves us while we are still in sin. He loves each of us first, and He loves us to the end. Our ability to change people’s hearts and help them to grasp the dignity of each and every life, from the first moment of conception to the last moment of natural death, is directly related to our ability to increase love and unity in the Church, for our proclamation of the Truth is hindered when we are divided and fighting with each other."

Read his whole post on his blog here.

"Dutch"

2009-08-04T15:03:00.007-04:00

When things got a little tough for me in my early years as a Jesuit, my friend "Dutch," (above, right, vesting me at my ordination) an older Jesuit priest, could always be counted on to provide a listening ear, and words of affirmation. Recently the New Orleans Times-Picayune ran a story about him:

Jesuit priest shares stories of a lifetime

Sunday, July 26, 2009

By Sarah Druen

. . . Why write about the Jesuit experience? The short answer is because I recently had the great privilege of becoming acquainted with a group of retired Jesuits who live in Algiers at the Ignatius Residence, located at 6321 Stratford Place.

In particular, after visiting with 83-year-old the Rev. Tom "Dutch" Jenniskens, I was inspired by his reflections and remembrances and given his blessing to share these various gems with you, our eager readers.

Jenniskens may never have become a Jesuit or served at Jesuit High had it not been for his own father's acts of courage and unselfishness. In answering Monsignor Peter Wynhoven's plea to assist in the staffing at Hope Haven, Jennisken's father relocated from Holland to Marrero, serving as a lay missionary.

Initially, the greatest need was in getting the dairy started and following the enlistment of the Salesians, the focus shifted toward working with the needs of the boys.

In 1945, the young Jenniskens, who had graduated from Jesuit High in 1943, was confronted with one of the most important and difficult decisions of his life. The U.S. was in the middle of World War II and Jenniskens knew without a doubt that he had a vocation to the priesthood. Although Jenniskens' brother, Peter, chose to become an archdiocesan priest, Jenniskens knew his call was to become a Jesuit, yet he was torn because of a desire to contribute to the war effort.

Ultimately, Jenniskens chose to serve his country by pursuing his religious vocation. To this day, Jenniskens recalls not only his frame of mind, but his exact location when he made his final decision. While sitting up in one of the windows, by the fish pond, Jenniskens received the grace of conviction, stating, "I knew this was where I belonged and I never looked back." . . .

You can read the whole story here.

The Theologian as Dead Frog

2009-07-29T17:00:00.006-04:00

After reading this article in The Chronicle of Higher Education by someone who identifies himself as "theistic off the job and professionally agnostic,” I'm wondering if I should reconsider my Theology studies. He explains:

“Theology [as opposed to religious studies] also views itself as an academic discipline, but it does not attempt to advance knowledge. Rather, theologians practice and defend religion.”
How can theology be so unambitious?

“Since rituals do not accomplish what the religion says they do, the researcher evaluates them on the basis of what they actually accomplish, even when the doctrines do not acknowledge those accomplishments.”
It seems I should also reconsider my vocation as a priest.

“In sum, the religion researcher is related to the theologian as the biologist is related to the frog in her lab. Theologians try to invigorate their own religion, perpetuate it, expound it, defend it, or explain its relationship to other religions. Religion researchers select sample religions, slice them open, and poke around inside, which tends to "kill" the religion, or at least to kill the romantic or magical aspects of the religion and focus instead on how that religion actually works.”
Can somebody explain this to me? As far as I can tell, this analogy doesn't make any sense, because shouldn't the religion researcher then be dissecting the theologian? And, if so, wouldn't that make it hard for the theologian to invigorate or perpetuate anything? Unless, perhaps, maybe after dissection the frog is resurrected? But, then again, this might not "kill" religion, but start a new one. I'm confused. And, besides, I don't want to be the dead frog. Maybe I could be a virus?

Also, apparently, if I want to persist in being a priest and a theologian, I'm going about it unethically:
“The failure of theologians to remind the members of their churches and synagogues that the Bible is an anthology of ancient literature composed by ancient people in an ancient culture has consequences. The laity are entitled to know that any god described in a biblical text is an ancient god, a byproduct of the ancient culture that produced the text. The god of the Bible is the sum total of the words in the text and has no independent existence. It would be reasonable to begin every theological discussion with the disclaimer "the god described in this sacred text is fictional, and any resemblance to an actual god is purely coincidental." This is not an outsider's dismissive opinion, but the reality, and theologians have an ethical obligation to teach that truth even if they also want to believe and teach, as is their right, that a god exists."

But, thank God, it seems that my qualms may be unwarranted. He wants to reassure me:
“Am I trying to imply that theology is without value? Certainly not.”

So, maybe it is safe to step back into the sanctuary, and the classroom. And, in case you were wondering, I checked: not from the April Fool's issue.

I'm Good

2009-07-19T18:37:00.002-04:00

You never know how things are going to come across on the internet. I've had a few kind messages from people, thinking I was upset or down, because of the post (since removed) which at least two people described as "raw." It wasn't as raw as what I had originally written for myself, and it was trying to express something I've been thinking about for some time. So, it wasn't really as raw as it seemed. But since it was interpreted that way, it's probably better that I removed it. I can assure you that I am not down or upset, but actually quite the contrary.

Indeed, I've had a lovely couple of days. One of the things that's great about being a Jesuit priest is that we have this great network of people who are graduates of our educational institutions. Since I am a graduate of Fordham university, I received word that there was a group of Fordham alumni coming to New Orleans this week to assist Catholic Charities and Operation Helping Hands in some of their ongoing rebuilding work. Knowing I was going to be here at the same time, I contacted them and invited them to the parish for mass. They kicked off their week with an alumni reception here in town last night. So, I joined them and some other local alumni last night for drinks and hors d'oeuvres in the French Quarter, and they joined me for mass this morning at 11:00 am. After mass, I joined them for an afternoon around town. So, it's been a really enjoyable couple of days with a group of young alumni, all of whom have graduated within the last ten years. Many of them used their vacation time from work in order to come down here for this trip.

This is truly one of the perks of being a Jesuit. I have enjoyed seeing many of the great positive contributions my former students are making in the world. And that's only a small percentage of the alumni I haven't taught myself from other schools, like this group from Fordham (actually several of them were students at Fordham at the same time I was a student). What a privilege to spend some time with them these last two days! I know they are going to do great work here this week.

So, yeah, sometimes there are the conversations that are a little lacking in Christian charity, and in sensitivity toward people I care about, but that's one of the "perks" too. Knowing the success of our work, witnessed to by the generosity of our Jesuit alumni, helps outweigh the criticism of those who fail to see the good.

So, really, I'm good.

The Voices in My Head

2009-07-18T17:58:00.002-04:00

So, the book manuscript has been submitted, which is a relief. But with that comes the back and forth reevaluation in my head. Maybe that part wasn't really finished. That part was really good. Does it really all come together? Does it provide what I wanted it to? Yes, there's enough there that many different people will be able to getting something out of it. Did I limit the audience too much? Or not enough? Blah, blah, blah.

I expect this is normal, and I'm counting on editorial feedback. And, of course, there is always the fear that they'll return it and say: This is really awful. But I'm pretty certain that won't happen.

In the meantime, I'm throwing myself into my summer work as a parish priest. And starting to look ahead to other things like moving, the young adult retreat I'm working on next month, my own retreat, and a new school year at a new school. So, I guess it's helpful that stuff is running around my head as well!

For Some, I Must Be the Agent of Darkness

2009-07-18T13:45:00.003-04:00

Today I again had one of those experiences where as a priest I feel like I just have to sit silently, and hope that maybe God gives me something to say, if God wants me too. And, if not, God will take better care of things than I can . . .

A friend expressed some concerns about this post. So, I've removed it, at least for now, to consider his concerns.

If you're interested in my thoughts, feel free to write me at my e-mail address.

Output

2009-07-10T17:29:00.003-04:00

My creative energies have been focused elsewhere lately. So, I hope you have not been "put out" by my absence.

My book, which has been floating far too long in the ether, is nearly complete. I'm not sure why it has been such a prolonged effort, but I hope it will prove to be worth it. It has been a fascinating experience of inspiration, frustration, change and nurturing. Chapters moved, titles changed, and the realization that it will never be quite "done." How much to explain? How much to leave to the reader? The hope and the trust that ultimately it will be up to the reader to finish, for it is for him and her and them after all.

This is all to say that my lack of blogging ought soon to produce a material reward, in 2010. Here's a description, I prepared for the publisher:

Part memoir, part cultural critique, part Christian apologetic, Title Yet to Be Finally Determined is Jesuit Fr. Mark Mossa’s spiritual primer for young adults searching for God in their life. “You may have noticed that there are not a lot of Catholic Christian spirituality books out there that speak to your experience,” he says to the reader, “I noticed that too.” This book is Mossa’s attempt to begin to make up for this lack, by delving deeply and honestly into his own young adult experience. While doing so, he invites the reader to agree to one key insight, which provides the book’s basic structure: “Whether we like it or not, each of us has a past, present and future. And . . . they’re connected.”

Indeed, as the title suggests, Mossa’s book is all about making connections. That, he says, is what the spiritual life is all about. It has to be more than just a vague feeling of self-transcendence. True spirituality, he insists, must connect us with God, and other people. Drawing inspiration from sources as varied as Marlon Brando and the Psalms, Gerard Manley Hopkins and Kermit the Frog, Adam Sandler and U2 he invites young adults on a journey to finding God already present and active in their lives, in their relationships and in their culture.

Along the way, by also sharing his own successes and mistakes, and the lessons he learned from them, he hopes to offer insights more suited to the complexities of life in the late 20^th and early 21^st centuries. What does it mean to allow myself to love and be loved? Can I ever really forget the pain of my past life? How do I discover the unique life that God is calling me too? Inviting young adults to embrace what he calls a “spirituality of desire,” Title . . . seeks to start them on the path to an adult spiritual life, one energized by the common human desire to be with God.

Sound interesting? I hope so.

I have promised to submit the manuscript Monday, and there is only a little and much to do between now and then. So, see you on the other side.

Please pray with me that my finishing touches will be sufficient, for now.

Three Stages of Jesuit Life, and a Sacred Moment

2009-06-20T18:46:00.002-04:00

Please pray for our new priests, old priests, and priests-to-be!

May We All Be Enthralled by Christ

2009-06-19T16:22:00.001-04:00

From the Holy Father's declaration of "The Year of the Priest" which begins today:

To the Most Holy Virgin I entrust this Year for Priests. I ask her to awaken in the heart of every priest a generous and renewed commitment to the ideal of complete self-oblation to Christ and the Church which inspired the thoughts and actions of the saintly Curé of Ars. It was his fervent prayer life and his impassioned love of Christ Crucified that enabled John Mary Vianney to grow daily in his total self-oblation to God and the Church. May his example lead all priests to offer that witness of unity with their Bishop, with one another and with the lay faithful, which today, as ever, is so necessary. Despite all the evil present in our world, the words which Christ spoke to his Apostles in the Upper Room continue to inspire us: “In the world you have tribulation; but take courage, I have overcome the world” (Jn 16:33). Our faith in the Divine Master gives us the strength to look to the future with confidence. Dear priests, Christ is counting on you. In the footsteps of the Curé of Ars, let yourselves be enthralled by him. In this way you too will be, for the world in our time, heralds of hope, reconciliation and peace!

May our faith be deepened. And may we everyday become better servants of the servants of God.

Celebrating the Gift of Being a Priest and a Jesuit

2009-06-14T23:08:00.002-04:00

On a Monday morning two weeks ago in Quebec, the Poor Clare community got a rare treat. My newly ordained Jesuit brother Andre had come to say mass for them. And with them he brought two Jesuit deacons (soon to be ordained themselves) and three Jesuit priests, including myself, to concelebrate. It was a wonderful celebration, and each of us even dared to make a contribution to the prayer, in French. The Sisters held a reception afterward for Andre and, as we gathered round, they insisted Andre tell the story of his vocation. It was in French, of course, so I was only able to get the gist of it, not all the details. But when he was finished, I completely understood when one of the sisters commented (in French also), “So, you’re a young priest, but an old Jesuit.” We laughed, but also nodded our heads, because what she said was true.

Today I celebrate a year as a priest. And it is truly something to celebrate! I love being a priest, even though it has only been one year, and there are still so many “priestly” things I haven’t done. So, no need to change the name of the blog. One year in, I’m still a rookie. But I have also been a Jesuit for almost 12 years, and that, to me, is just as much cause for celebration. That’s why I’m glad that today was pretty low-key as far as anniversary celebrations go. I didn’t preside at a mass to celebrate the year. Instead, I concelebrated the first mass of another brother Jesuit. Then, I enjoyed the day with several other brother Jesuits—spending the afternoon in the city, going out to dinner, seeing a movie and just talking. A fitting way for this “old” Jesuit to celebrate the gift of my “young” priesthood, a gift inseparable from whom I have become because of my brother Jesuits and, of course, the people whom I’ve had the privilege to minister with and to. Next week I’ll celebrate with them.

Frontiers Not So Foreign, or Far Away

2009-06-13T20:48:00.002-04:00

One of the exciting things about being a priest, especially a Jesuit priest, is that we are not always sure what kind of situations we might find ourselves in that demand our ministerial skills. The recent General Congregation spoke several times, as has the Pope, about how often as Jesuits we are especially called to be on the “frontiers” of faith and culture. Some of my most privileged moments of connecting with people have been outside of typical “church” contexts. Traveling from one place to another, for example, you never know what kind of need you might encounter. Often there’s a chance to help someone, or listen to their story in a way that is part of my priestly vocation, even if that person doesn’t even know that I’m a priest (I don’t wear clerics 24/7). But I also like it when I’m with a group of people, my fellow German students last summer, for example, in which I just happen to be a priest sharing an experience with them. A lot of the time the fact that I’m a priest doesn’t make a difference, but there are times that it does. There are the conversations—what’s it like? And there are the times when people do have a need to talk about something, or ask for help, and they know that I’m someone who they can probably count on.

I’ve noticed recently that I run into a lot of people that I would term “religiously indifferent.” They’re not hostile toward God or religion. And they are often very good people. However, for some reason, it hasn’t occurred to them that God should be a part of their life. It makes me wonder what it would be like to be “chaplain” to a group of people that one is not typically chaplain to. Like bikers, circus performers, journalists, buskers, CEOs or something like that. Those are interesting “frontiers” one could explore!

Father Jim Martin has offered a peek into just such an experience in his book A Jesuit Off-Broadway. Don’t let the title fool you. This isn’t a light-hearted reminiscence on one Jesuit’s brief dalliance with the New York theatre world. It is a remarkably engaging and often deeply moving account of being a priest on the frontiers of faith and culture, of finding God in new and surprising ways. He almost seamlessly moves from his account to being theological advisor to the off-broadway production of The Last Days of Judas Iscariot to reflections on some of the most profound theological questions, and does so by showing us how the troupe of actors which he came to know and love struggled with those same questions. Fr. Martin admits to being a little star-struck at first, especially having the likes of Philip Seymour Hoffman as the play’s director. But he soon enough got over that to see how real these people were, and how serious they were about honoring the lives and beliefs of the characters they were portraying—Saint Monica, Saint Thomas the Apostle, Judas, Jesus, Mother Teresa, etc. As his story progresses, we witness not only the sometimes uncomfortable birth of a work of art, we see how Fr. Martin and the cast are transformed by the experience. All this is placed in the context of the Christian tradition in a revealing and enlightening way, and as one continues to read, one starts to feel as if they know and love this group of people, just as Father Jim comes to know and love them too. And one sees how the Spirit works in varied and surprising ways because a priest has been introduced into what at first seems a “foreign” context, but which eventually is revealed by compelling portraits of each of the cast members, as a place—a holy place—not so foreign at all. I think I’ve become this book’s biggest fan.

One of the most moving parts of the book for me, came at the very beginning, in the foreword by the playwright, Stephen Adly Guirgis. He explains:

“I asked many questions that, perhaps, one is not supposed to ask, and, on occasion, Father Jim would reply with answers that perhaps he was not supposed to give. I tried to—and needed to—leave no stone unturned, and Father Jim, secure in his faith and his priesthood, never did anything but supply direct answers to pointed questions. And he did so kindly, thoughtfully, and with both a passion for the subject and a wealth of com-passion for me—his confused, often irate and disconsolate lapsed Catholic Interrogator. In short, he was everything I think a Priest should be: caring, thoughtful, strong, unimpeachable—and up for the challenge. In short, I have no doubt that Father Jim is one of Jesus’ true soldiers. And trust me: I’m not the doubt-free type. I drown in doubt, and to the degree that that’s true, Father Jim, from our first meeting and right up to today, is slowly teaching me to swim.”

Google Humor

2009-06-12T15:07:00.001-04:00

So, I just discovered that this blog is the first result for the following search:

something a person use to wipe their mouth with

Too funny!

(especially because the point of the post was--don't wipe you're mouth with it!!)

"Food" for Thought (and Prayer)

2009-06-12T14:34:00.003-04:00

I'm taking some time to reflect on Pope Benedict's latest message to priests, on the Feast of Corpus Christi:

“Being Eucharist! This must be our constant desire and duty so that the sacrifice of our existence accompanies our offering of the Body and Blood of Christ at the altar. Every day, from the Body and Blood of the Lord we find that free and pure love that renders us worthy ministers of the Christ and witnesses of its joy."

That's just a taste. More here.

Where am I? What am I doing? What mass is this?

2009-06-10T10:50:00.002-04:00

One of the nice things about being a religious priest is that you frequently get to celebrate mass with several different communities. This, however, can also be a challenge. If I remember, I remind myself before mass about the specific practices of a particular parish, or even a specific mass at the same parish, because sometimes they do things differently on weekdays and weekends. However, it is often the case that I have to take a moment in the course of mass to stop and think, especially if I've been on a "roll" and have spent several weeks doing the same mass. This forces some improvisation at times, either on my part, or the part of the liturgical ministers. If I've poured all the wine, and I wasn't supposed to, that can make it difficult to offer communion under both species as planned. Or if the wine is already poured into separate chalices I might forget that the wine in the main chalice is for me alone, and pour too much. One parish offers communion under both species. One doesn't. One does on the weekdays, but not on Sunday. Each community has its own way of distributing communion, so I try my best to be in the right place, but that doesn't always work either. And, of course, there are the times when the "last-minute recruit" ministers get confused, so that while I'm trying to hand one my ciborium after communion, she instead hands me hers!

Trying to keep this all straight can be even more of a challenge those weeks, like one I had a while back, when I find myself saying mass in six different places in one week! I depend on people when I arrive to tell me what to do, how they do things, etc. This at times takes a little coaxing because many are apt to defer to me and say, "whatever you want, Father." After which I have to convince them that what I really want is to do things the way they are accustomed to doing them. It usually gets worked out. However, we still don't always get things straight. Recently, after a music director told me they were singing "everything," we had a very awkward silence when it came time for the "Gloria." As we discovered, once I asked in the middle of mass, "everything" meant "everything but . . ." Most recently, when offering daily mass somewhere for the first time, the server whispered to me halfway through mass, "Do you know we have adoration after mass?" No, I said, nobody told me that, just tell me what to do . . .

You only have to be a priest for a little while to realize that those that obsess over everything in the mass being "perfect," are doomed to be disappointed. As much as everyone involved makes the effort to ensure that it is reverent, prayerful and perhaps even inspiring, there will always be those little gaffs which remind us that our worship, as our lives, is beset by human frailty. And I expect this is as it should be.

Now, where am I?

'Tis the Season!

2009-06-03T12:20:00.006-04:00

Ordination season has begun. Please pray for our new "rookie" priests. This weekend I had the pleasure and privilege of attending the ordination of one of our newest Jesuit priests, Father Andre Brouillette, SJ, of French Canada. He's pictured above with Cardinal Marc Ouellet, the presiding bishop. Still a new priest myself, it brought back a lot of the feelings of my own ordination less than a year ago. And it was especially moving because I got to share it with my friend and his family (even if the language gap made communication a challenge at times--my French is very rusty). It was also a community event, as several of us traveled from Boston to be there with Andre. Below, you can see Father Peter Nguyen, SJ, who, like me, was ordained last year, laying hands on Andre (I was in line right behind him).

In the United States, all our new Jesuit priests will be ordained in the next three weeks. Some of our international brothers who study here with us will also be ordained then, as well as in July in August. I know many of them, and they will be a great gift to the Church. But I also know they face many challenges. So, again, please pray for them, and all the rest of us rookie priests.

You can find more photos from the ordination, as well as the Cardinal's homily (in French) here.

Wait for it . . .

2009-05-28T14:04:00.003-04:00

One of my favorite things to do as a priest--believe it or not--is to hear confessions. Some people are afraid to go to confession because they are afraid that the priest is going to yell at them (and, unfortunately, it may even have happened to them once). Honestly, I can't imagine any reason why I would feel compelled to yell at someone during a confession. One might need to be firm about something at times, but there's still no need to yell. Indeed, my experience is that usually it becomes a joyful and healing conversation, once the person has gotten past the difficult part of confessing his or her sins. Sometimes people laugh, sometimes they cry, but it is because it has been a good experience.
Another reason people don't go is because they feel embarrassed because they don't know what to do. I wouldn't let this deter you because, in my experience, nearly half of all my confessions have been with people who weren't sure what they were doing. I'm happy to help. In fact, I often have to stop people from leaving because they've stood up to go before I've had the chance to give them absolution! Also, there's no shame in bringing a "cheat sheet" along with you. Busted Halo has provided a pretty good one, which advises: "Don't get up to leave after that prayer [the act of contrition] because the best part is yet to come: The priest will extend his hands in your direction and he will pray the Prayer of Absolution . . . " So, give it a shot, bring the sheet along with you, and don't run out before you've gotten what you came for!

Notre Dame: Faith, Culture or Politics?

2009-05-15T15:46:00.002-04:00

I suspect that many American Catholics, like myself, will be happy when this Sunday has passed. Many of those on both sides of the Obama at Notre Dame debate will, hopefully, wake up on Monday morning wondering what they got so worked up about.

One of the interesting questions surrounding the controversy is what, in the end, it is really about. For many it is truly about the life of the unborn. Many others, however, have mixed motives. So, is it about morality, faith, culture or politics? Here are two interesting takes on the controversy that I’ve read lately:

Catholic Culture & Notre Dame

Sectarian Catholicism

Surprise: You're Graduating! Now, Start Packing . . .

2009-05-13T20:22:00.003-04:00

Among the reasons for my long absence has been the completion of my STL thesis. I finished everything last week. And, since I did so that late, I was not expecting to graduate. Well, yesterday I was informed that I am. So, I've had to scramble a little to get myself ready for Monday's festivities!

This will close a chapter of my academic career, just as I prepare to start a new one. This August, I will be moving to New York City to begin PhD studies in Theology at Fordham University. I will also set about the task of confusing the Catholic world by living and working with my friend, Fr. Mark Massa, S.J. I'm not sure if the world is ready for this, but I'm looking forward to it!

Those of you who are in the vicinity of New York (e.g. Penni, Amy, etc.), I hope you will come visit! School starts the first week of September.

A Face Only a Christian Could Love?

2009-05-13T20:17:00.002-04:00

Things have been crazy lately, and I thought I should do something special for my 100th post! But, alas, my Mothers' Day homily will have to do.

“He’s got a face only a mother could love.” I suspect you’ve heard this expression a few times in your life. Despite the fact that it is meant to serve as something of an insult to the person to whom it’s directed, the expression wouldn’t exist if we didn’t tend to believe in the premise behind it. For the presumption that comes with this expression is that a mother’s love is something extraordinary. Of all people in the world, it tells us, the person whose love we can always count on is our mother. Mothers are known for their heroic love, loving their children even when no one else seems to, or seems able to. It is this kind of love which we celebrate today, when we thank our mothers for everything they are and have been to us.

But that expression also got me thinking. Why isn’t there an equally valid expression, “he’s got a face only a Christian could love”? Because isn’t it true that our love for others is also something that people should be able to count on, that our love for others is meant to be something heroic. Indeed, God tells us that even should a mother forsake her child, he will not abandon us. And, as the people of God, we are challenged to do the same, to love with a love that goes even beyond the heroic nature of a mother’s love. To love like Jesus did.

It’s not easy. Take our first reading today, for example. Here we have the Apostles, who knew Jesus, faced with Saul, one of those that were persecuting them, saying now, “I am one of you!” “Jesus appeared to me and told me to join you.” Our text, from the Acts of the Apostles, says at first “they were all afraid of him.” They didn’t exactly welcome him with open arms. But they did give him a chance to prove himself. And they were eventually convinced of Jesus’ claim on his life, and his sincerity. Using the image from our Gospel reading today, we can say that they saw his fruits, and saw that they were good.

My fear is that today not only do we fail to love as we should, but that more and more in the political climate of our country today—and don’t fool yourself into thinking for a minute that it hasn’t infected our church community—we are not even allowing ourselves to see what kind of fruits others are producing. It’s easier to attack and demonize and not get to know the other person at all. Instead, we trust what other people, who have political agendas, have to say about them, instead of seeing for ourselves.

In today’s political climate, I don’t think Saint Paul would even have been given a chance to demonstrate the truth that Jesus had called him to be an Apostle. The so-called Christian bloggers would have made mincemeat out of him before he even had a chance to demonstrate the fruits of his calling. I read the blogs and the editorials aimed at people who are deemed “not Christian enough,” for whatever reason, and I can tell you that charity does not rule in what many of them write. And, lately, because I do occasionally write in such venues, I’ve taken to asking myself, and I’m encouraging others to do the same: Does your love for the unborn, for the poor, for Jesus cause you to speak uncharitably and contemptuously of others? And do you even really know these people well enough to make such judgments? I know there are times when I could answer “yes” to the first question, and “no’ to the second. And I also know that is not what Christian love is all about.

Given the ways in which we so often fail, I suspect there is not a lot of hope for adding that new saying, “He has a face only a Christian could love.” We’ll have to stick with Mom for now. And we should also look to Jesus. One of the most striking things about Jesus is that he never failed to share a table, even with those he criticized and even with those who were known to be public sinners. Loving them was always more important than shunning them. Adding them to the community of believers was always more important than isolating them because of their unbelief. Healing them was always more important than pointing out how sick they were.

Of course, it’s easy enough to say when faced with everything Jesus did and was, “I’m sorry, but I’m not Jesus. I can’t love like that.” I suspect there are mothers here who once thought of themselves, “how can I be a mother, I can’t love like that.” And then that day came when her child was born and suddenly she found herself capable of a love she never imagined. Gathering together on Mother’s Day to worship our great lover Jesus, we are invited to imagine ourselves capable of heroic and even Christ-like love and to make that the fruit by which we will be judged by the world, and by which we judge others.

Receiving Communion Redux

2009-04-30T18:52:00.002-04:00

I've been a bit preoccupied lately with school and ministry, etc. So, I've just discovered a pretty good discussion inspired by my recent post here.

Lots of interesting points of view on the subject, and more evidence for my suspicion that some instruction might be in order!

Fr. James Martin on Susan Boyle

2009-04-20T12:54:00.002-04:00

"It may be the best example of the how God sees us--and the way that the world often doesn't."

Read it all here.

Faith Hope & Love

2009-04-20T09:13:00.004-04:00

Check out The Story of Faith Hope, an inspiring blog about a baby that wasn't supposed to live, and her mother's courage.

Thanks to Margaret for bringing it to my attention.

A Priest's Sacrifice

2009-04-19T21:14:00.002-04:00

Occasionally the press gives us good news about a priest! Here's a nice story from "Normal," Illinois:

Priest’s gift of solidarity: Parishioner gets his kidney
Associated Press

A Roman Catholic priest has decided to stand in solidarity with a parishioner by donating his left kidney to her.

Monsignor Eric Powell, pastor of Epiphany Roman Catholic Church in Normal, underwent surgery at OSF Saint Francis Medical Center in Peoria, Ill. Transplant surgeon Dr. Beverly Ketel later said Powell and the kidney recipient were doing well.

The priest said he wanted “to alleviate potential suffering and stand in solidarity with a sister in Christ.” The 45-year-old Powell would not name the recipient of the kidney.

Charlie, Don't Bite the Finger That Feeds You . . .

2009-04-18T10:00:00.000-04:00

This video will serve as a humorous way of illustrating my point:

charlie bit my finger

I wrote a post a while back in which I spoke about some of the challenges involved in distributing communion. And lately I've been noticing that more and more people are choosing to receive communion on the tongue rather than in the hands. After almost a year as a priest, I've just about got the technique down for giving communion on the tongue without too much worry of "flying host incidents," which I also wrote about before. But now there is another challenge--people who receive communion neither in the hand nor on the tongue, but between the teeth! At a recent mass, I almost lost my finger a couple of times! I'm thinking that since more people are choosing not to receive in the hand any more, it might be a good time to offer some catechesis as to how to receive on the tongue. I know that since as a child I learned how to receive communion on the tongue only shortly before communion in the hand became more common, there are probably lots of people younger than me who, though they've decided to stop receiving in the hand, may never have been taught how to receive on the tongue. And not to lay it all on the young people, there are some older folk who seem to have forgotten how. If I could just make one suggestion: get that tongue out there, enough with the teeth!

Internal Dialogue: Am I Still Saying the Same Prayer?

2009-04-17T23:12:00.002-04:00

One of many nightmare scenarios: You start off saying one prayer, and inadvertently veer off into another.

I was afraid I might have done that Thursday night. I was saying mass for "Junior Night" at a local Catholic high school. This is one of the school's smaller classes, so it wasn't a huge crowd, and not all Catholic. Since it was a special mass, I decided to pray the Gloria. Only problem--no one joined in. I mean nobody. I was so distracted by this that I started to wonder if I was praying the right words, and even started to fear that maybe I had veered off into another prayer. So, when I got to "receive our prayer," I just ended it there. No one seemed to mind.

Turns out, I hadn't gotten off course, but, what, no one knows the Gloria? I know we just finished Lent, but there were more than a few lifetime Catholics there!

So, an appeal: When you fail to respond, you leave us rookie priests thinking we've done something wrong. So, help us out!

Easter & Updike

2009-04-14T21:09:00.002-04:00

An interesting piece from Religion & Ethics News Weekly:

On Easter and Updike
by David E. Anderson

Easter is not easy for most poets and writers, the difficult mystery of resurrection being more intractable than incarnation.

One of the best examples of the problem is perhaps the most famous Easter poem of the second half of the 20th century, John Updike’s “Seven Stanzas at Easter.” Updike identifies the difficulty in the opening line:

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

The crucial word in the center of the first line—if—states what might be called “the Easter problem” starkly, and Updike’s insistence on the orthodox doctrine of the physical, bodily reality of the resurrection, even when hedged with the doubting if, provides a succinct but apt statement of one of the key themes of his work—the terror of death and the search for some sense, some promise, of overcoming, and he will not brook any evasions:

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence,
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the faded
credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The tension between belief and doubt in the face of death, between faith and its opposite—certainty, and the need for resurrection run through all of Updike’s vast body of writing, from his early novels, stories, and poetry (“Seven Stanzas at Easter” was written in 1960, just a year after his first novel was published, and the poem was the winning entry in a religious arts festival sponsored by a Lutheran church on Boston’s North Shore) to his later work, including Due Considerations, his final collection of essays and criticism, and Endpoint, a posthumous book of poems published this month.

“Endpoint” does not directly address Easter, but its many meditations on Updike’s impending death—he died January 27 at the age of 76 and was battling cancer as he wrote many of the poems, specifically addressing his illness in a number of them—underscore the tension he wrestled with throughout his career between the fear of death and the hope for some kind of afterlife. In a poem entitled “Death of a Computer,” he writes of an old computer’s final crash and the “hopeful garble” on the monitor’s screen: “I in a spurt of mercy shut it down. / May I, too, have a stern and kindly hand / bestow upon my failing circuits peace.” In “Fine Point 12/22/08,” the last of the seventeen poems in the title sequence, he asks, “Why go to Sunday school, though surlily, / and not believe a bit of what was taught?” He praises Jews who “kept faith / and passed the prayers, the crabbed rites / from table to table as Christians mocked”:

We mocked but took. The timbrel creed of praise
gives spirit to the daily; blood tinges lips.
The tongue reposes in papyrus pleas,
saying, Surely—magnificent, that “surely”—
goodness and mercy shall follow me all
the days of my life, my life, forever.

Updike wrote in an early autobiographical essay, “The Dogwood Tree,” of his fascination with what he called “the three great secret things”—art, sex, and religion and how they combined and interacted in his artistic mission to “transcribe middleness with all its grits, bumps, and anonymities, in its fullness of satisfaction and mystery.” While the appreciations and obituaries that poured forth at his death duly noted how art, and especially sex, wove themselves into his work, few noted what British novelist Ian McEwan called Updike’s “religious seriousness,” his being “constitutionally unable to ‘make the leap of unfaith.’” . . .

read the rest here.

The complete "Seven Stanzas at Easter":

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

When I Think of Easter . . .

2009-04-12T20:14:00.002-04:00

I remember Mayo Kikel.

Mayo was one of the first teachers I met when I visited Jesuit High in Tampa the Spring prior to starting work there in 2002. She impressed me with her conviction that God wanted her there. She could easily have worked at a school closer to where she lived, but instead she made the extra long trek to our school each day. I have only met a few teachers like her, so convinced that they were fulfilling a mission. When I began work at the school the next Fall, she quickly became one of my favorite colleagues.

This made it all the more difficult when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. We were already to chip in and fill in for her wherever needed. But, amazingly, even after she started the cancer treatments, she never missed a single day of work. It was what she lived for. And though it left her with little energy to do much else, she came back day after day. None of us would have faulted her for taking a day off, much less complaining, but she rarely did.

As Easter approached, she came to ask me a favor. I was the Director of Campus Ministry and was in charge of the program for our once-a-week morning convocations, when the whole school gathered in the chapel to begin the day. She told me how good the boys at the school had been to her, and she wanted to use the convocation just before the Easter break to thank them. What she wanted to do, she explained, was to sing a song, an Easter song. Now this was not without its risks. Such an endeavor at a school of some 650 boys was just as likely to invite ridicule, as it was reverence. We talked about this, but she was determined. So we made plans.

When the day came, I stood up at the podium and said, "Mrs. Kikel has told me how wonderful you all have been to her during her illness, and she asked if she could do something to thank you." The music began.

The song she sang was told from the perspective of Peter, beginning with a Peter all too aware of how he had failed Jesus. And, now that Jesus was dead, there would be no opportunity to make amends. Then it took up where our Easter Gospel reading began, with Mary come to announce that Jesus had been taken from the tomb. Peter runs to the tomb, John running up ahead. They find the burial cloths set aside, and Jesus missing, and they begin to realize what has happened. In the song Peter exclaims, "He's alive!" "He's alive!" "He's alive and I'm forgiven. Heaven's gates are open wide!" "He's alive!" "He's alive!" The song built until Mayo sang out the final, "He's aaaalive!" And then something happened which even now when I think about it inspires tears. Immediately and without hesitation, every boy in that chapel stood up and applauded.

We speak a lot in our Jesuit boys' schools about being "men for others," and I have yet to see a better example of that than I did on that day. When we speak about Easter, we speak about everything being made new because of what Jesus did for us, and because God raised him from the dead. Things were made new for me that day. No matter what they did after that day, I could never quite see those boys in the same way again. They had stepped up when it was most important. And I can never think of Easter without thinking of Mayo Kikel who because of her humility, faith and courage was able to inspire such a moment.

Mayo beat the cancer, but was stricken just a couple years later with a rare disease which took her from us. But I will never forget her. Few people in my life have exemplified as well as her what Easter is all about.

Watch Your Metaphors

2009-04-11T11:17:00.002-04:00

Friday morning I joined some ministry colleagues for a Good Friday service at an assisted living facility. It was my my job to give a brief reflection after some readings from the Passion. I began by saying "today we are invited to stand at the foot of the cross with Jesus . . ." To which one of the people attending replied incredulously, "You want us to stand?!" "No, please don't," I replied quickly, not completely holding back a laugh, "I was just speaking metaphorically."

I'm Not So Sure About This

2009-04-09T23:16:00.002-04:00

I don't want to think about it too much, but somehow it seems to miss the point.

(Though maybe you could combine it with a car wash to raise money for the youth group!!)

Holy Thursday

2009-04-09T15:39:00.002-04:00

Today I received an e-mail from someone thanking me for being a priest. I'm not always sure how to respond to such gratitude, for how often do we thank others for answering God's call to their particular vocation? I generally don't see my choice as any more heroic than that, for example, of the parent who serves God by devoting his or her life to children and family. Nevertheless, since I know that a priest can be taken for granted by his church or congregation just as easily as a parent might be by his or her children, it is nice to receive thanks now and then. So, perhaps in humility it's better not to overthink such things.

And, indeed, it is Holy Thursday, a day when priests are invited to give thanks for the privilege of serving the people of God as we do. Lest we become too impressed with ourselves it's also the day on which, according to Jesus' injunction, we wash others' feet. Especially on my first Maundy Thursday as a priest, it reminds me of an important moment in the realization of my own vocation which I wrote of some years ago:

Did I do what? I stopped and looked at her ugly, twisted old woman's feet and I thought no, absolutely not! But I hardly had time to think about what I was doing when I saw my hands reaching for those feet because I realized something else. If my answer was not yes, then it was time for me to leave all this and go home. Because if I couldn't do this, then I couldn't possibly be a Jesuit, I couldn't possibly be a priest. Because what I was trying to be, what I had to be, was someone who does rub feet. I would be a fraud if Jesus couldn't say to me on that final day, "I was dying and you rubbed my feet."

You can read the complete article here.

Abandoned & Forsaken

2009-04-06T21:21:00.002-04:00

Some stories for Palm Sunday:

Theologian Jurgen Moltmann found his faith and his vocation during World War II. A soldier with the German Air Force, he was captured and brought to Scotland as a prisoner of war. He describes his worst day in the prison camp:

“And then came what was for me the worst of all. In September 1945, in Camp 22 in Scotland, we were confronted with pictures of Belsen and Auschwitz. They were pinned up in one of the huts, without comment . . . slowly and inexorably the truth filtered into our awareness, and we saw ourselves mirrored in the eyes of the Nazi victims. Was this what we had fought for? Had my generation, as the last, been driven to our deaths so that the concentration camp murderers could go on killing, and Hitler could live a few months longer? Some people were so appalled that they didn’t want to go back to Germany ever again. Later they stayed on in England. For me, every feeling for Germany, the so-called sacred ‘Fatherland’, collapsed”

In the midst of his despair, an army chaplain gave him a Bible to read:

“I read it without much comprehension, until I stumbled upon the psalms of lament . . . They were the words of my own heart and they called my soul to God. Then I came to the story of the passion, and when I read Jesus’ death cry, ‘My God, why have you forsaken me?’, I knew with certainty: this is someone who understands you. I began to understand the assailed Christ because I felt that he understood me: this was the divine brother in distress, who takes the prisoners with him on his way to resurrection. I began to sum up the courage to live again, seized by a great hope . . . Christ’s God-forsakenness showed me where God is, where he had been with me in my life, and where he would be in the future”

Elizabeth Johnson, reflecting on Dietrich Bonhoeffer's words in his prison journal, "Only a suffering God can help," relates this story from Margaret Spufford:

“Closer to the point is the reflection of another woman who spent endless days and nights on a hospital ward with her tiny, sick daughter, helping the nurses with the other babies when she could. It was a dreadful exposure to the meaningless suffering of the innocent. ‘On those terrible children’s wards,’ she writes, ‘I could neither have worshipped nor respected any God who had not himself cried out, “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Because it was so, because the creator loved his creation enough to become helpless with it and suffer in it, totally overwhelmed by the pain of it, I found there was still hope.’ This is one way the symbol of a suffering God can help: by signaling that the mystery of God is here in solidarity with those who suffer”

Angry Mass

2009-03-30T09:14:00.002-04:00

I've already had plenty of experiences of "sleepy mass," and only a few instances of, thank God, "totally uninspired" mass (I'm talking about my own masses, not those presided over by other priests), but today was my first experience of "angry" mass.

I'll explain. If you made it to mass today, you'll know that the readings were the story of Susannah, from the Book of Daniel, and the story of the woman caught in adultery, from the Gospel of John. As I considered what to say in my homily this morning, I realized that there was no way around it--today's readings definitely had something to say about injustice against women. To avoid the issue, as some might have, seemed to me to be ignoring the elephant in the room. Today's readings clearly had something to say to use about gender justice, and the injustice perpetrated against women by abuse of power and sinful double standards. That's what I spoke about in my homily. I admitted that I myself haven't exactly been the best advocate of gender justice, and have been known to roll my eyes at academic discussions of the evils of patriarchy, but that it was clear in these two readings that gender justice is something we are meant to be concerned about. We are called, like Daniel, not to stand idly be but to speak up when we see injustice being perpetrated against women. And, we are challenged by Jesus to examine the ways in which our own attitudes and opinions ignore such abuses of power, and conform to sinful double standards. And while we can often point to more egregious examples of injustice and violence against women in other countries, that shouldn't prevent us from recognizing that there is plenty happening here, right in our own communities.

Honestly, this was a bit out of my comfort zone, and so I was pretty nervous. I wasn't sure how people would react. I was pleased with the homily, though it took a lot out of me. And, as I reflected for a few moments afterward, I was confident that what I had said indeed reflected God's concern.

And that was why I was so appalled and angered by the prayers of the faithful! Now, they come from a book which the parish bought, so no one there is to blame, but I couldn't believe that after I had said all that, the first prayer was for "our bishops, priests, and deacons." And it only got worse. There was not a single mention of women, never mind injustice against women. I wanted to scream! Instead, I did the more genteel thing, and added my own prayer at the end for women who are victims of sexual abuse and violence. I wonder if I should have said something more, but I always want to be careful not to distract people from the liturgy of the Eucharist (and I'd already said quite a bit). And, hey, I'm saying something more now.

But I was distracted, and I wondered if people noticed that I was angered by how the prayers had indeed managed to ignore the elephant in the room. I couldn't help but wonder if that was a deliberate omission, and whether the people who wrote the prayers had considered how out of sync that first prayer was likely to be with many a homily today. Sometimes at mass I'm taken by how well the prayers, usually written independently of me, fit with the subject of my homily. And sometimes when they don't, I wonder if I missed something. But today was the first time that I felt the prayers didn't seem to get it at all; that it wasn't me who missed something. I'm certainly going to mention this to the pastor. Maybe it's time to get a new prayer book.

But it was a strange experience to be praying the prayers while I was angry. And though we had a long first reading, in which case I would sometimes pray the shorter Eucharistic Prayer II, I deliberately avoided that Eucharistic prayer today, because it is less inclusive, and most strikingly only prays for the Pope, Bishop and all the clergy when that time comes. There aren't the prayers for all who have been called to Christ's friendship and the family gathered, as there are in other Eucharistic prayers. I also found myself becoming much more conscious of the gender language in the prayers than I usually am. That doesn't mean you're going to find me praying to God the Mother, or anything like that, but I did feel compelled to pay more attention.

One person came and thanked me after Mass. I wonder what the others thought. Perhaps for some it was a bit too much for a Monday morning, but it's certainly got me thinking, as you can tell. Hopefully, they are thinking about it too.

And, you too.

Confirmation

2009-03-24T22:15:00.002-04:00

Before I became a Jesuit I worked in a parish where one of my duties was to coordinate the Confirmation program. I think we did a pretty good job. I tried to emphasize to the students that Confirmation was something they should do if they wanted to, not just because everyone else, or because that's what their parents wanted. That usually didn't make much difference, but at least I said it. Still, I had the consolation of knowing that the students had learned something. I also had a sense that most of them and their families came to church on a fairly regular basis. There weren't so many, though indeed a few, whom after confirmation I never saw again.

This year I had my first experience of concelebrating a Confirmation mass as a priest. We had dinner before hand with the Bishop. Someone asked what percentage of those to be confirmed came to church on a regular basis. The shocking answer was "15, maybe 20 percent"! I wish the question had never been asked, because I couldn't put it out of my mind. I looked out at all the young people--and there were quite a few--out there with there sponsors and families, dressed in their nice robes, and I thought: What are we doing? Is this all just playacting? Why are we going through all the motions if most of the people here really aren't serious about what's going on; If they have no intention of taking their place as adult members of the Church? Can't we do better than this?

Many people would probably tell you that no, we can't. But we have to.

I think we are on the verge of a real vocation crisis, a vocation crisis that has nothing to do with people choosing to be priests or religious. It is much more fundamental than that. It has do with people choosing a vocation to a life of faith, a life in the Church. I'm not a pessimistic person, but it just seems like going through the motions and hoping for the best, just isn't going to cut it. We have to find a way to show young people why they should want to choose a life for Christ. Being a confirmed Catholic out to be something they aspire to, something they get excited about, something that is just the beginning, not the welcome end to tedious CCD classes or parental pressure.

Yeah, we should hope for the best. But how do we help those hopes be realized?

Searching for Some Good Films?

2009-03-20T09:04:00.003-04:00

Check out this interesting Catholic Top 100 film list!
It's not all saccharine, sappy films--The Godfather and Groundhog Day are up there among the best!

First Confessions

2009-03-17T18:25:00.003-04:00

I wasn't too serious--or mean. I tried my best to put them at ease. "God is happy that you are here," I told them. Nevertheless, they were nervous. The girls, especially, couldn't sit still. So, I didn't keep them long. Some of them seemed unsure what to confess. So, I helped them along, hoping to get at least one sin out of them, so I could give them absolution and let them go!

It was a good experience. And, hopefully, they found it a nice enough experience that they might come back soon, and not wait until Confirmation!

Sorry for the long absence. I'm hoping not to be gone so long again.

Another First

2009-02-06T16:01:00.006-05:00

Tomorrow I'm helping with First Confessions for the first time.

I've been duly advised -- Don't Laugh!

So, I'll be putting my serious face on.

Contribute to a Legacy, and Get Something for Yourself and a Friend

2009-02-06T14:09:00.004-05:00

Michael Dubruiel, Catholic author and husband of well-known Catholic blogger/author Amy Welborn, died suddenly this week. Please pray for Amy and her family.

Amy and Michael have contributed a lot to our Church community, so many are wondering how to give back. Amy has suggested that people purchase Michael's books, especially The How-To Book of the Mass, the proceeds from which are designated for the children's college fund.

As a new priest, I know that we can all use a little help from time to time to deepen our understanding and experience of our participation in the Mass, and other sacraments like confession. Michael's work was dedicated to helping us do just that.

So, today I bought two copies each of Michael's How-To Book of the Mass, and his A Pocket Guide to Confession. I'll keep one copy of each in my library, and give the other two away.

It seems to me this is a great way to enrich your faith life, that of a friend, and help out a family in need at the same time. If you're able, I encourage you to do the same.

But, most importantly, keep Amy and her family in your prayers.

Story, Authority and Hard-Heartedness

2009-02-02T11:13:00.002-05:00

My homily from this past Sunday:

If you are familiar with the stories of fantasy epics like The Lord of the Rings, or the Chronicles of Narnia, or even the Matrix, you already know something about the background of today’s readings. The stories open in a dark time, a time when the glories of the past are a distant memory, and the future is uncertain. Some believe that there is someone who will come to make everything right again. Others believe that such beliefs are nothing but false hope. Those who exercise authority all seem flawed. It’s hard to know who to trust. The best thing to do might be just to look out for yourself and make the most of the time you’ve been given. But some look to the prophecies and promises of the past, and see a new hope unfolding.

Our readings today inspire similar sentiments. And this is not just any story. It’s our story. God speaks to us first through the person of Moses, who tells God’s chosen people, “A prophet like me will the Lord, your God, raise up for you among your own kin; to him you shall listen.” This is just the beginning of the epic story of our ancestors in the faith told to us in the Old Testament. In each generation after Moses, a prophet like him is called forward to be the “new Moses,” and it is by means of that prophet that God continues to speak to his people. Two weeks ago we heard the story of the calling of Samuel, one of the many prophets who would act as Moses’ successor among the Jewish people. Yet, it was also around the time of Samuel that the people asked for more. They looked at the other nations around them and told God that they wanted a king, like them. God warned them that this was not a good idea, but they insisted and God gave them a king. Among the many problems this new situation posed was that of conflicting authority. Though the prophet was often called upon to advise the king, there was often a difference of opinion as to who had the greater authority. Those who know the story of King David and Bathsheba know that when the king abused his authority in having Bathsheba’s husband killed, Samuel’s successor the prophet Nathan was sent by God to tell him so. Eventually such tensions tore the kingdom into two, and the prophets and the kings stopped coming.

So, just as Gondor suffered a period without a king, and Narnia suffers numerous times from the absence of the hero Aslan, so the Jewish people endured a dark time during which the promised prophets were called no longer. This is where we find ourselves at the beginning of Mark’s gospel today. We get the sense that there are those who have been long on the lookout for something new, searching for that new voice of authority that they don’t hear in their church leadership. And suddenly Jesus appears and there is something different about him. He not only inspires one to listen, but even evil spirits obey his authority. As the citizens of Middle Earth suspect that in Aragorn they are witnessing the return of the king, so the Jewish people suspect that this new teaching with authority in Jesus marks the return of the new Moses among them. But as is true of all such stories, those in authority will resist allowing an unknown to take their place, even if they suspect themselves that he may be genuine. In the Lord of the Rings, for example, Denethor, who has long served as protector of Gondor in the absence of the king, seems to recognize Aragorn’s legitimacy as king but in his pride, and desperation over the death of his son, will not allow his authority to be taken from him. I imagine it is true also that many of the Scribes and Pharisees sensed Jesus’ true authority, but could not accept the loss of their own. Because of this they became deaf both to the voice of the first Moses, and to the new Moses.

But what about now? After the life, death and resurrection of Jesus where do we find ourselves in the continuing drama of our relationship with God? Today’s second reading from the letter of St. Paul doesn’t seem to be of much help, and it shouldn’t be. St. Paul didn’t expect things were going to get too complicated after Jesus, because he thought Jesus would return in his lifetime. This is why he tells the Corinthians not to worry about complicating their lives too much. Well, here we are 2000 years later, and things can get pretty complicated whether you are married or not! And many of us are asking once again: where do we find those teachings with authority, that speak to us the way Jesus spoke to the people of his time?

Well, we first ought to admit to ourselves that as 21st century Americans we have a somewhat complicated relationship with authority. We are brought up in a culture that values individualism and self-determination, and thus tends to be suspicious—if not contemptuous—of authority. So, as a result, we tend to go to extremes. Either we decide that authority is authority, and if some person or institution has it, then we ought to obey whatever they say. Or we take an attitude that authority is only worth listening to if it fits with what I believe or tells me to do something that I want to do. Both these approaches, I believe amount to what today’s Psalm calls a “hardening of heart.” There is no true attention to the voice of authority, because one’s response is already pre-determined. There can also be a worse hardening when those in authority disappoint us; it may be that we decide that they are not worth listening to at all. But this is not faithful to our story, a story in which through the centuries we have recognized that God has indeed spoken through fallible human beings, people that have both made mistakes and spoken in prophetic ways on behalf of God. This is why both blind obedience to and blind contempt of authority miss the mark. Like the people of Jesus’ time we are called to be on the lookout for those “new teachings, with authority,” that is, the voice of Jesus speaking through both those who have institutional authority and those who have authority merely by the example of their holy lives. We must listen for the voice of Jesus in our midst, and heed the command of the psalm: “If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.”

Farewell to an American Icon

2009-01-28T20:17:00.002-05:00

John Updike, 1932-2009

"He captured the sensations at our eyelashes and fingertips, and the internal lightning of plans and arguments we make behind our faces, with a vividness that borders on religion. He once said he felt free to write as honestly as he did, because he believed 'God already knows everything anyway and cannot be shocked. And only truth can be built upon.'"

read more

76 years of life, 60 books

May he rest in peace.

Gotta stop being THAT guy

2009-01-25T13:52:00.003-05:00

My apologies for the long absence. My homily for today will give you some sense of why. Also had a death in the family, beginning of school, etc. Posts will be less frequent until I get a couple of things finished. Hope you are having a blessed new year!

I have two major projects that I’m working on these days, both of which I promised to finish, both of which are almost done, and both of which are now seriously overdue. I have become identified in my mind, and in the mind of some others, as the guy who hasn’t finished. And it really doesn’t make sense that these things have been so hard to finish. And I know that my life would be a lot more stress-free if they were done. Yet I realized recently that one of the problems is that now I’m so used to being the guy who hasn’t finished those things, it’s becoming harder for me to imagine myself as the guy who has. Yet, if I really want to move on in my life, I know that at some point—some time soon—I have to stop being that guy.

Today we celebrate the feast of the conversion of St. Paul. And what I have just described is a dynamic in life which many of us experience. The difficulty of leaving behind the person who we are now in order to become the person that we want to be. In a word, conversion. It might not be so apparent in Paul’s case that this is what he wanted to be. He was persecuting Christians, so how can we say that he wanted to become one. It wasn’t as if he had a secret desire to be like the people he was persecuting. It was rather that he was someone who desired to serve God with great zeal. This is why God chose him. But in order to serve God as he was chosen to, he first needed to meet Christ, as Scripture tells us he did on the road to Damascus. He realized in that encounter that he could no longer be the person he was, that God was calling him to be somebody new, a change symbolized by the changing of his name from Saul to Paul. When we encounter Christ, as we do in our worship today, we should expect that we’ll have a similar experience.

But how do we discover what God wants us to be? And how do we find the strength to become somebody new, barring a mystical experience at the road side? It can be so much easier to stay who we are, even if we know it’s not who we want to be. However, if we look at today’s readings we see people willing to change radically, to upend their lives, and become somebody new. But what does it take to get them to change? For the Ninevhites, it takes a prophet screaming in their streets promises of death and destruction from God. This, we know from Scripture, is a pretty effective way to bring about transformation. It didn’t take long for the Ninevhites to repent. But, for most of us these days, threats of divine destruction are difficult to be motivated by, and the hope of heaven tends to be more persuasive than the threat of Hell, even though a healthy fear of the loss of heaven might not be such a bad thing to have. For Simon, Andrew, James and John, the motivation seems to come easy, just meeting Jesus seems to be motivation enough to leave everything behind and to follow him. But we seem a bit lacking in credible prophets of heavenly doom these days. And Jesus isn’t walking the streets and inviting us to come along. So, where do we find the inspiration to shed that person we have been for too long, and to become the person God wants us to be?

Saint Paul is a pretty good guide for such things. It’s worth taking the time to sit down with your Bible and read his letters. He’s writing to real people in real life situations, like us. In his writings we find down to earth assessments of the challenges of being human—“Why don’t I do the things I want to, and do the things I don’t want,” he asks, for example. And, unlike the other Apostles, who had the benefit of knowing Christ during his lifetime, his is a post-resurrection perspective like ours. He invites us to be made strong in weakness by not trying to do everything by our own power, but instead seeking the help of God’s grace, and the grace of the Holy Spirit. And in today’s reading from his letter to the Corinthians, he speaks with urgency, and advises things which might strike us as rather odd. How and why would those with spouses act as if they didn’t have them? He isn’t telling those who are married to embrace the single life again. What he’s saying, rather, is what he discovered on the road to Damascus, that having come to know Christ and the truth about how Christ saved us, one can never again primarily identify him or herself as somebody’s wife or husband, child or friend. One no longer be the person who is always sad, or always happy. Instead, Christ calls us to give these things second place to the new identities we must embrace. The change that is required is seeing ourselves primarily as the person who is saved by and follows Christ and who, putting aside the comfortable and familiar, risks the unknown demands of our new lives.

So, as we continue our prayer today, I invite you to ask yourselves. Have you, like me, become too comfortable with being that person, the person hasn’t finished things, the person I’ve been for thirty years, the person everybody else expects me to be. If so, let us together pray for the help of the Holy Spirit to put those behind us, put Christ first in our lives, and be what we are called to be—disciples like Simon, Andrew, James, John and Paul.

Blessings for Christmas

2008-12-25T12:54:00.002-05:00

May God bless you and your families this Christmas, and in the new year!

Just Because . . .

2008-12-22T09:50:00.002-05:00

Fourth Sunday of Advent

2008-12-21T22:56:00.002-05:00

Here's the question from today's readings:

Are you going to build the temple (even if that's not what God wants?)?

or

Are you going to be the temple?

Remembering Avery Cardinal Dulles

2008-12-16T23:10:00.003-05:00

Fr. James Martin reminisces and offers a fine tribute to our recently deceased brother, Cardinal Avery Dulles:

Given his lightheartedness, it seemed appropriate that, in 2001, during the Vatican ceremony when he was made a cardinal, Pope John Paul II placed the customary red biretta on Avery's head, and it toppled into the pope's lap. No one enjoyed telling that story more than the new cardinal. And he enjoyed recounting a tale from his Navy days, when as officer of the watch, he ordered his ship to fire on a German U-Boat in the Caribbean. When dawn came, Ensign Dulles realized that had bombarded a coral reef.

read the whole thing here.

I ran into Avery Dulles shortly after he was made a cardinal. There had been a piece on him in the New York Times magazine earlier that week. I told him I enjoyed the piece. He laughed, as he often did, and then became a bit indignant. "That last part about the subway token. It never happened," he said. "The reporter just made it up." As usual, he had found a way not to be too impressed with himself.

Not Iggy Pop

2008-12-15T11:10:00.003-05:00

I knew I liked Cate Blanchett for some reason besides the fact that she's one of the most talented actresses in film today. She also has three children, the youngest of whom is named, "Ignatius." Why? She explains:

Cate also denied she and Andrew chose the name Ignatius for their baby as a tribute to outrageous rocker Iggy Pop, insisting it is in honor of Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Society of Jesus.

She explained to Interview magazine: "Of course one thinks of Iggy Pop. But it's Ignatius Loyola."

I'm not so sure about, "Of course one thinks of Iggy Pop." But, then again, I belong to the Society of Jesus!

Death and New Life

2008-12-13T15:14:00.003-05:00

It's been a draining few days on the priesthood front, but also days filled with consolation. On Thursday I flew to Tampa to say goodbye to my good friend Joe. It wasn't exactly how I'd envisioned our next meeting. But it was good to celebrate his life with so many others whose lives he had touched over the years. Over 600 people turned out for the funeral. What an honor, too, to be able to concelebrate his funeral mass. It was beautiful, and finished with a moving procession outside the chapel and down the drive of the high school, where people lined either side holding candles. It was exactly the kind of thing Joe would have done for somebody else (though it might not have been as well organized!). On Thursday night, I sat with a group of Jesuits and reminisced about our times with Joe. It was exactly what I needed. I got a good night's sleep, and then headed back home.

Today, I had the joy of beginning marriage preparation with a couple whose wedding I will witness next Fall. What an honor too to be with them as we discuss preparations for their new life together. I look forward to the coming months, getting to know them better, and helping them to get to know each other better, and what marriage will mean for them.

These are the privileged moments, both sad and happy, that are among the blessings of being a priest. Then there is also the mixed blessing of having the 8:00 am mass tomorrow morning. Time to go finish my homily . . . (I wonder if they'll have any rose vestments)

Road Signs

2008-12-10T22:06:00.003-05:00

Most of my life as a Jesuit has involved living quite close to where I've worked and or studied. So, the recent move of our school to Brighton, while remain living here in Cambridge, has forced upon us the new reality of being commuters. This means I'm spending more time driving than I normally do. And, that I'm doing so in Boston. Normally, I don't mind driving. But a single trip in this city is rarely without its tense moments, near misses or near-death experiences. The one exception is Sunday morning, when things are magically quiet and sedate on the roads. I notice that the stress of driving here means that it is the time when I'm most easily annoyed, and it's not hard to find things to be annoyed about. The other day I thought it might be nice to have a set of placards to hold up for other drivers at such moments. They would say things like:

SHUT UP AND DRIVE
(or the more polite version I saw recently: Hang up and drive)

GOT TURN SIGNALS?

APPLY BRAKES AT STOP SIGNS

NOPE, WAY BEYOND YELLOW

PICK A LANE

and for bikers:

THE RULES APPLY TO YOU TOO

HELP ME OUT, I'D RATHER NOT BE THE INSTRUMENT OF YOUR DEATH TODAY

(yeah, I realize that one's kinda long)

But mostly, SHUT UP AND DRIVE would probably take care of most of it.

I'd probably still be stressed, and this would probably prompt some creative gestures, still I think it would help me feel a little better.

Or maybe I'll just get one of these:

Liturgical Pet Peeves: The Mouth-Wipe

2008-12-10T13:20:00.002-05:00

Spoiler alert: Once you become conscious of this, it might drive you crazy. So continue to read at your own peril.

Recently after breaking up a fight about liturgical colors on my Facebook page, I was chastised by one of my Facebook friends for not using the moment to speak out against "liturgical abuses." Putting aside the fact that I really hadn't researched whether or not dark blue was approved in the U.S. for Advent or not, and that I'd never seen anyone even wear a dark blue vestment during Advent, I really didn't see it as my duty to serve as the liturgical abuse policeman at that moment. Besides, people treating each other with Christian charity is of far greater concern to me than what color Fr. Joe the Plumber chooses to wear at mass on the Second Sunday of Advent. I have limited tolerance for such conversations, and I'm also concerned that for some looking out for "liturgical abuses" can become an unhealthy obsession. It can cause one to forget the reason they might have become concerned about such things in the first place--the importance of the Eucharist.

That said, there is something, not quite an abuse, but more of a bad habit, that I might be willing to mount a campaign against. It involves the misuse of the purificator. Living in a community of priests, or concelebrating mass, one often finds oneself faced with this. The presiding priest drinks the wine, and before handing the purificator and wine off to be shared, wipes his mouth with the purificator! Now, that same purificator which he just slathered his germs all over, will be used to wipe the cup after each person has received the wine, making the practice seem somewhat pointless. Little wonder than that so many people choose to forego the cup. I know that I consider the possibility after witnessing this, but I usually don't have much of a choice.

However, this is all just another reminder of what I realize even more clearly now as a priest. Those searching for that perfect liturgical experience are headed for a life filled with despair. Despite my best efforts, my masses are rarely as perfect as I would like them to be. Already I know that I have inadvertently worn the wrong color, left out a prayer or two, used vessels that are illicit according to the GIRM, etc. Part of this is the reality of being a religious priest and not having control over the norms of the particular parish where you are saying mass. Unless the local variants are particularly egregious, I really don't have much say about how the externals of the mass go (my job is not to go into somebody else's parish and tell them how they should be doing things). Most of this, on the other hand, is just a matter of being human. We all make mistakes, and we do interpret what is permitted and what is desirable a little bit differently. Sometimes the norms are not so clear, and even seem to contradict each other (the GIRM and one of the major documents on the liturgy, for example, seem to say different things about what kind of bread should be used at mass). Though there are some priests out there who clearly just do their own thing, most of us are trying our best.

Though, admittedly, I wish some would try a little harder not to use the purificator to wipe their mouth! Nevertheless I do take care to try not to let that distract me from what is really important at that moment--the Eucharist.

What I Did During Summer Vacation

2008-12-09T20:47:00.002-05:00

Back in August, I helped with a great young adult retreat at our retreat house in Atlanta. One of the people on the retreat wrote an article about the retreat house, and even quoted me (though it's not the most interesting thing I've ever said)!

Ignatius House Offers Spiritual Getaway Close to Home
by Amy Wenk

November 28, 2008

Everyday life features so many distractions — gridlocked traffic, unending e-mail, the blaring television, chatty co-workers — that little time remains for personal reflection.

A nearby place offers a timeout — a spot to slow down, contemplate in silence and improve your spiritual well-being.

The Ignatius House Jesuit Retreat Center is far from the noise of daily life yet close to home in Sandy Springs. The center is on 20 acres off Riverside Drive, perched on a bluff overlooking the Chattahoochee River.
"The Ignatius House provides such a unique atmosphere, it is hard to ignore the beauty and tranquility that you find here," said Atlanta resident Christine Smith, who first took a respite at the center in August 2007. "Every time I leave, I am blessed with a new sense of perspective and optimism about myself, my life and my relationship with God and others . . .

Read the rest here.

Joe's Next Assignment

2008-12-08T09:45:00.003-05:00

I lived and worked with Joe for a year. During that time we became very close. Then and since we have talked about many things. He once very earnestly said to me, "Mark, promise me you'll never let them name anything after me." I said that I'd do my best. But I expect it will be difficult. He was the president of Jesuit High School in Tampa for more than a decade, despite the fact that he wasn't really the school president "type." It took a lot out of him. Yet, he didn't let the job define him. He made it his own. He spent less time at fundraisers and with benefactors than most presidents, and in many ways acted as more of a spiritual leader (when he wasn't butting heads with people). He called himself "head of maintenance." And this wasn't as false a humility as some surely thought. Joe was forceful in his convictions, but always aware that he might need to ask forgiveness for being found to be wrong. And though he knew himself not to be the president type, he left a considerable legacy nonetheless, especially in his transformation of the school's physical plant and facilities. Maybe "head of maintenance" wasn't so far off the mark.

Joe and I sometimes spoke of our respective futures. I'm not sure Joe was always sure I would cut it as a priest. He thought, as others have, that I would also be a good husband and parent (I would remind him that the two were not necessarily mutually exclusive). And, as close as we were, my year of working with him was not without its tensions, and failures on my part. Yet, I could always be honest and frank with him in ways I couldn't be with others, and he never held my failures against me. As for Joe's future, he hoped the end of his tenure as president would come soon (it took another five years). And even then, in the ministry he was doing off campus, he was noticing the great consolation he received from accompanying several friends in their final days. He thought for his next assignment he might like to do something like that, working as a hospice chaplain or something along those lines. I looked forward to seeing him do that. I knew he would be great at it.

But then came the stroke toward the end of his tenure as president just 8 months ago, from which he'd been recovering ever since. When I last saw him he was complaining that he'd probably have to continue his rehabilitation through November, which he did. Then, just weeks ago he got away to make a return visit to Tampa. There he fell ill once again, and enjoyed the consolation of brother Jesuits being there for him in his final days, before moving on to his next assignment. Already, I am sure, he is praying for us all.

Thanks to Joe

2008-12-06T17:08:00.005-05:00

In an October 2004 America magazine article, Robert Maloney writes:

I entered St. Peter’s Basilica yesterday just after the gates swung open at seven in the morning and found myself drawn to the altar of Blessed John XXIII. Each day a priest preaches there who does everything wrong and everything right. He didn’t disappoint me. Having once taught homiletics, I’m terribly critical of him. In yesterday’s brief homily he mentioned Michelangelo, the Spanish philosopher Miguel de Unamuno, Moses, Aaron, Jesus, of course, and Catherine of Siena. Unity, the lesson I used to drill into my students, is surely not his strength.

But I go to St. Peter’s to listen to him again and again, because, apart from all the rules he breaks, he does everything right. Today I noticed how he prayed before he preached, his head bowed reverently. His love for God’s word radiated as soon as he launched into the homily. As he spoke, I saw that he had prepared well, meditating on the Scriptures. In spite of all his digressions, some of which were intriguing, his main point hit me forcefully.

I remember smiling when I read it. I knew that priest. No, not that priest precisely. But another who fit the description. I forwarded the article to my friend Fr. Joe Doyle, S.J., noting "when I read this I thought of you." Joe's masses were like a circus. His homilies would be all over the place, he would randomly call people up to the altar ("everyone over 65 come on up"), he would single people out and talk to them, reminisce about experiences when he taught their parents, while some of the more liturgically astute would cringe at his rather loose sense of the rubrics. Yet, his masses never failed to inspire, even if as an aspiring priest you knew you would never say mass that way. Often people would say they were the best masses they'd ever been to. And, on a personal level, Joe would never fail to remind you that he loved you. At the same time, he was no teddy bear. He could be as stubborn as hell. But it was always in the service of what he thought to be the right thing, even if it meant sometimes people thought him unreasonable (and sometimes they were right). Yet no one was as aware of his limitations as Joe was, he prayed always that God would help him to be better. Though as a priest there are many ways I don't resemble Joe (my masses are a bit more sedate and generally stick to the rubrics), I hope in those important ways, the ways in which he did "everything right," I one day will.

I received news of Joe's passing this afternoon. I regret we didn't have the opportunity to have that one last conversation. But I'm glad he was able to be there with me on the day of my ordination and a couple of days later, when I last saw him. We talked for a few minutes and he insisted on a few pious gestures from the new priest, both awkward and special. Now it's my turn to ask him: Joe, pray for me.

Jesuits on the Frontiers

2008-12-02T09:38:00.003-05:00

My latest article, a reflection on the work of the Jesuits' recent General Congregation in light of "postmodern" challenges, has finally been published! (I wrote it almost five months ago) It's a bit "Jesuity," as it is addressed to Jesuits, but I think it also offers some insights for a wider audience. It appears in the 100th issue of the Jesuit journal, Promotio Iustitiae, along with several other articles written in a similar vein. I chose to focus on a concept of "frontiers," a concept which showed up both in the congregation documents, and in the Pope's address to the congregation. Here's a little bit of what I had to say about one of the frontiers closest to my heart:

. . .There is a deeper “vocation” crisis than simply the decrease in those answering the call to priesthood and religious life. An increasing number of young people are not even realizing their vocation to a life of faith in Christ and participation in the Church. None of us can afford to ignore the call to this frontier.
There are many borderlines along this frontier where we can engage young people, inviting them to share our life with Christ. Some have become adept at speaking to young people in a language many recognize—the language of popular culture. This can be precarious, as popular culture sometimes promotes thing contrary to what we believe. But when we use popular music, television, film and the internet as a means of communicating Christ, young people themselves begin to realize the tension between what Christ preached and what popular culture frequently does. Other Jesuits are exploring the possibilities of that less than two decade old frontier of the worldwide web which, though not exclusive to youth, is a part of their lives they have come to take for granted in a way most do not. The Irish and British Jesuits have successful established the on-line prayer ministries “Sacred Space” and “Pray-as-you-go.” Jesuits of all ages are exploring the potentialities of this medium for evangelization. In such a venue, one’s age, attractiveness or experience becomes less important than whether or not one has something interesting or compelling to say.
This is not true just on the internet. Jesuits of all ages can aid and inspire young people by offering liturgy for them, by directing them on retreats or by accompanying them on mission trips working amongst the poor. Though each of us has a different “literacy” when it comes to youth culture, each of has the capability to invite them to faith in Christ because passion, though sometimes misdirected, is so much a part of their life, and we have made our passion our life—Jesus Christ. By our love and example, we can give young people license to take the passion which they bring to so many other things to their lives with Christ and participation in the Church. The recent World Youth Days have offered hope in this regard. With our worldwide network of educational institutions, we have a privileged place at this frontier which others do not.

What are the other "frontiers"? Read the whole article (or the whole issue) here. My article begins on page 47.

Welcome to Advent--The Priest in the Jungle

2008-12-01T22:23:00.002-05:00

On Sunday night I had the 5:00 mass. I knew it was the First Sunday of Advent, but it honestly didn't occur to me until I arrived at the church that there would be a few different things to do. Thankfully, the parishioners quickly got me up to speed. We lit the first Advent candle, as soon as someone was able to help us find the taper to light it with. It was hidden in plain sight (it wasn't very big). Then there was the light show. They accidentally turned out all the lights just before the Gospel (at first I thought it was deliberate, but I couldn't imagine why!). Then, when it came time for the Eucharistic prayer, BAM!, two spotlights shining right in my eyes! It looked as if the congregation was sitting in a fog! Thankfully, they were turned off before communion, so that I could see again. All that said, I enjoyed the opportunity to celebrate my first first Sunday of Advent! (and, bonus!, it meant I wasn't watching the Patriots get rolled over) Anyway, the whole experience kind of fit in with my homily. So, I'll share it here:

Today we begin the season of Advent. I always approach Advent with a bit of trepidation. Because I feel as if it is a time during which something wonderful should be allowed to happen; that if were to fully take advantage of the spirit of watching and expectation that I might find myself spiritually renewed and invigorated for a new year. Yet, Advent has been almost inevitably, for as long as I can remember, one of the busiest times of year for me. The expectation that I feel is not for the coming of the Lord, but rather all those things expected of me, all those things I have to accomplish in addition to my usual busyness in the coming weeks. My own expectations for having fully appreciated the graces of Advent, are usually disappointed as Christmas arrives and I wonder where those 4 weeks have gone. I expect that I’m not the only one here that has had this experience.

So, with that in mind, I was thinking about the final invocation of today’s Gospel: Watch! And it reminded me that my feelings were not so far removed from that of the characters in one of my favorite stories, Henry James’ The Beast in the Jungle. It’s a story that’s all about watchfulness, and which warns us not to be confounded by our own expectations—or our own egos.

The story begins as the two main characters, John Marcher and May Bartram meet at a party. Though John does not remember, May reminds him that they had met some years before. The certainty that they had met comes when May reminds him that he had shared with her one of his deepest convictions. John is astonished because he realizes that she knows something of him which he had shared with no one before or since. She describes to him what she still remembered so well:
“You said you had had from your earliest time, as the deepest thing within you, the sense of being kept for something rare and strange, possibly prodigious and terrible, that was sooner or later to happen to you, that you had in your bones the foreboding and the conviction of, and that would perhaps overwhelm you."
Marcher explains that even in the intervening years, he has not achieved any greater sense of what this rare and strange thing might be, but that he is certain he would know it when he sees it. A deep friendship is forged by this intimacy, and May agrees to watch with John for its coming.

Remembering this story helped me to recall something else about the importance of this season. It’s not just that we watch for Jesus’ coming in the Incarnation, but that we watch together. Our lives, however busy, do not necessarily dictate what we do or do not get out of Advent, if we can together, like the Israelites in today’s first reading, recognize our need for God. And, just as importantly, how Jesus is incarnated in each one of us.

Back to the story. John and May become almost exclusive friends as they watch together. John even expresses his concern that May might be putting off her life for his sake, and the sake of what is to come. But May seems untroubled by this, and they continue this way for years. However, there comes a time when May, haven fallen ill, starts to become impatient. She even, it seems to John, appears to know what it is they have been waiting for, and seems even to believe it has already come. During their conversation she gathers the little energy she has, rises up from her chair and stands uncertainly before him, challenging him to see it. But he doesn’t understand her sudden impatience after all this time, and even regrets having burdened her so. Eventually, May succumbing to her illness, tries once more to help him realize the truth before she dies, but he cannot see it. A year later, John sets out to visit May’s grave and, on the way, he sees the pained face of a man who had so obviously lost the one he deeply loved. In that face he recognized what he should have been feeling, had he but realized that which he had been watching for had been there all along, and he flings himself face down onto May’s tomb.

John and May’s story reminds us certainly of the message in today’s Gospel to watch and prepare ourselves for Christ’s anticipated and unexpected arrival. But it also reminds us that Advent is a time not to be so distracted by the jungle of our lives—or even our hopeful expectations for Advent—that we miss the many ways in which we catch a glimpse of that final coming in the ways in which Christ becomes incarnate to us in the events and in the people—especially those who watch with us—of our daily lives.

If you're interested, you can read Henry James' full story here.

Thanks to You!

2008-11-27T14:22:00.001-05:00

Here's wishing all you DRP followers and lurkers many blessings this Thanksgiving!

NOT AGAIN!!

2008-11-20T20:52:00.003-05:00

There are a lot of quality programs on TV these days that I like. Unfortunately, some of my favorites are complex, include their share of violence and undesirable characters. I enjoy, then, having a show or two that I can watch that simply inspire me. A few years ago, Joan of Arcadia, canceled after 2 seasons, was just such a show. I'm not sure it was given a chance. And, recently, there has been another--Eli Stone. Well acted, and well-scripted, it tells the story of a lawyer who receives visions which help him to know which cases he is to take, whom he is to help. Compared to the many other cynical legal shows, it has been a breath of fresh air. Eli Stone is a character that you feel like you want to get behind, and be like! And the fact that he is working for God--or however you want to explain it--is quite appealing to me.

So, I am truly disappointed at news coming from ABC that the show is likely to be canceled, if it hasn't been already. I wonder if anybody considered that this is the kind of show that would probably be more appealing in an earlier time slot. If anybody from ABC is reading, please reconsider! There has to be a place for just good, inspiring programming whose future isn't determined simply based on ratings. And, if you haven't seen it, catch it while you can!

Enduring Mysteries: Arch Nemesis

2008-11-20T18:25:00.002-05:00

Every once and a while I like to get a McDonald's burger. And each time I continued to be amazed at their seeming inability to make a Quarter Pounder without cheese. Advancements in technology have not seemed to be able to put a dent in this virus within the golden arches' system.

By now, I know always to check my order before leaving. Good thing, because today my "Quarter Pounder, no (emphatic no) cheese" turned into "Quarter Pounder, Cheese only."

Hmmm . . .

O, Jerusalem . . .

2008-11-20T18:11:00.002-05:00

My little homily for today's readings (sorry, nothing about the 7 heads and 7 eyes):

The great hypothetical we like to ask ourselves every once and while--and I think it's good that we do--is: If Jesus were to visit us right now, would we recognize him? If the Gospel is any guide, I'm guessing that those who would quickly answer "of course I would," would probably be those least likely to do so. The Scribes and the Pharisees were pretty sure they would recognize the Messiah when he came and most of them, it seems, were quick to decide that Jesus didn't fit their profile. Indeed, in today's Gospel reading we get the sense of Jesus' deep sadness that so many of those he came to save could not recognize him.

And I have to say that I'm not so certain I would do any better, because I know how often I've failed to see Jesus at work in my own life. This is probably true of all of us. Yet, I don't find in this a reason for despair, but for hope. Because this realization actually helps our chances at recognizing Jesus' presence in our lives. Knowing that we could miss out, reminds us that we need help. Even the greatest spiritual director is only great to the extent that he or she recognizes his or her own need for a spiritual director. For the greatest spiritual wisdom comes not in an unwavering confidence that we will recognize Jesus when he comes into our lives, but rather in a humble desire to seek out all the help we need to make sure we don't miss him when he comes.

Giving Thanks

2008-11-18T20:30:00.002-05:00

With Thanksgiving approaching, it seems appropriate to share this excerpt from the reflection I wrote just prior to my ordination. Indeed, in a way, it all started on Thanksgiving, twelve years ago:

It’s appropriate that my decision to pursue the life of a Jesuit and a priest began at Thanksgiving. Because, as I reflect on the nearly twelve years between that Thanksgiving and now, this is my prevailing sentiment—thankfulness. I give thanks for the elderly and dying woman who invited me to rub her feet, offering me one of my first lessons in priesthood. I give thanks for spontaneous prayers asked for by a struggling mother in the entrance of the church after mass or looking into the eyes of a homeless man in a White Castle parking lot in the Bronx. I give thanks for students who let the fact that I was a Jesuit make a difference in the classroom, and in their lives, sharing with me their fears about everything from academic success, to their drinking habits, war in Iraq, or a parent suffering from addiction. I give thanks for my many colleagues in ministry these years in parish ministry, hospital ministry, campus ministry, youth and young adult ministry, all of whom have taught me something about what it means to be a priest, and who let me share my experience and gifts, sometimes in challenging ways. Without all these lessons I would not have the strength to find the words, the gestures or the silence for days like the one last summer which began praying with a family reeling from the sudden stroke of husband and father, found me later in a room praying with and for a man who had just died and his family, waiting with another family for the priest who had been called to anoint their dying father, and finally standing with the parents of a man who had attempted suicide as the doctor told them he wasn’t likely to make it, and it was probably better he didn’t. At the end of the night I did my best, at the Father’s request, to be sure that his son would be anointed at the other hospital to which he was medevaced. Few days have made me as conscious as this one did of my gratitude for the many things people had taught me along the way (otherwise how could I have done it?), and the ability to pick up a phone at the end of that night and talk it all through with Abby, one of my lay ministry colleagues, before making the drive home.

Read the entire reflection here.

Incognito

2008-11-18T19:01:00.002-05:00

Last week I had an early morning daily mass, one which I take weekly. After the mass, I went home, changed my shirt, and met up with a friend, P., for breakfast. She brought her infant son along.

As we arrived at the cafe, we ran into a couple of women who had been at the mass just forty minutes before. They also know P. As we greeted them, one of them said, "Oh, are you P.'s husband?" I wasn't immediately sure how to respond. But, before I precisely knew what I was saying, I blurted out, "No. I'm the priest. We just had mass together."
"Oh," she said, as it started to sink in, "I knew you looked familiar!"

Fr. Mossia?

2008-11-18T18:52:00.004-05:00

A friend alerted me today to the fact that "CathNewsUSA" has featured "Diary of a Rookie Priest in its latest edition.
The story appears just above one about a "Father Cutie."
And, while they have managed to avoid the common mistake of giving me the name of my friend Fr. Massa, they have renamed me Fr. Mossia!
Oh well, it's a privilege just to have been nominated, right?

The direct link to the article: here

Update: In a quick response to my e-mail, the first mention of my name has been corrected. Yet, in the second instance, I still remain Fr. Mossia. Oh well!

Halloween & All Saints

2008-10-29T23:46:00.002-04:00

with Father James Martin, S.J.

courtesy of Bustedhalo.com

Note to Saint Joseph: He was only kidding!