Our Lady of Guadalupe

O Mother of all grace, all beauty,
you are the paradise of God. 
From you springs the fountain of living
water that irrigates all the universe. 
I stand before you, your child: fill me with You.

~Bernard de Clairvaux

Pope Francis' "Big Heart Open to God"

Today's national evening news broadcasts announced that Pope Francis "has sent shockwaves through the Catholic church" for admitting that the institution had overfocused on the condemnation of abortion, gay marriage and contraception at the expense of open-heartedness and compassion. The media's paraphrase of his words is based on an interview with the pope ("A Big Heart Open to God") in the Jesuit magazine America. This is the pope's actual quote: 

"We cannot insist only on issues related to abortion, gay marriage, and the use of contraception methods. This is not possible. I have not spoken much about these things, and I have been reprimanded for that. But when we speak about these issues, we have to talk about them in a context. The teaching of the church, for that matter, is clear and I am a son of the church, but it is not necessary to talk about these issues all the time. The dogmatic and moral teachings of the church are not all equivalent. The church's pastoral ministry cannot be obsessed with the transmission of a disjointed multitude of doctrines to be imposed insistently. Proclamation in a missionary style focuses on the essentials, on the necessary things: this is also what fascinates and attracts more, what makes the heart burn . . . We have to find a new balance, otherwise even the moral edifice of the church is likely to fall like a house of cards, losing the freshness and fragrance of the gospel. The proposal of the Gospel must be more simple, profound, radiant. It is from this proposition that the moral consequences then flow."

Happy as I am to read these words, I also want people to see that there has been no change in church doctrine per se -- it's more like he's aiming for a much-needed re-prioritization and attitude adjustment. To my mind, he's saying that the institutional church must focus much more on the basic teachings of the Gospel: love, compassion, mercy, humility, sacrifice, kenosis...  With the Gospel -- Christ's teachings and actions -- at the center of the church's motivation, "moral consequences then flow."  

And this is why -- despite the fact that there has been no change in Catholic doctrine (and, as you know, I frequently disagree with these doctrines!) -- I am joyful today. For a long time I have felt that a focus on doctrine puts the cart before the horse, and emphasizes legalism over Love. Such a priority saddens, discourages, and deadens. Heavy-handed doctrinism makes for a narrow-minded, closed-hearted, harshly judging, and increasingly out-of-touch church. When the church puts open-hearted gospel love first, however, love-rooted principles and standards appropriate to this day and age can emerge. I see this happening already, on a small but significant scale, in several loving and "rule-breaking" Catholic communities that I've had the privilege to be a part of. 

So thank you, Pope Francis. Your words and actions make me (and many of my friends) feel a tad less "heretical!"

Prayer for the World

From hunger and unemployment, and from forced eviction:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

From unjust sentences and unjust wars:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

From neglect by parents, neglect by children, and neglect by callous institutions:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

From cancer and stroke, ulcers, madness and senility:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

From famine and epidemic, from pollution of the soil, the air and the waters:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

From segregation and prejudice, from harassment, discrimination and brutality:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

From the concentration of power in the hands of ignorant, threatened, or hasty leaders:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

From propaganda, fads, frivolity and untruthfulness:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

From arrogance, narrowness and meanness, from stupidity and pretense:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

From boredom, apathy, and fatigue, from lack of conviction, from fear, self-satisfaction and timidity:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

From the consequences of our own folly:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

From resignation and despair, from cynicism and manipulation:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

Through all unmerited suffering, our own and that of others:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

Through the unending cry of all peoples for justice and freedom:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

Through all concern and wonder, love and creativity:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

In our strength and in our weakness, in occasional success and eventual failure:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

Alone and in community, in the days of action and the time of our dying:

    Merciful One, deliver us.

Deliver us, Merciful One, by opening our eyes and unstopping our ears,

that we may hear your word and do your will.

    Merciful One, deliver us. Amen. 

 --Modified from "A Litany of Modern Ills," The Covenant of Peace, compiled by John P. Brown and Richard York. Wilton, CT: Morehouse-Barlow Co., 1971.

The Particular is Unavoidable

One common question: why belong to one particular religion or follow any specific path? With all the corruptions and abuses that occur within institutional religion, wouldn’t it be better to divorce oneself from such systemic sickness and simply cull what is of value from these lineages, or, better yet, rely on one’s own inner resources and guides? If the tree has produced some wonderful fruit but has also become diseased, isn’t it a healthier choice to savor the good fruit and abandon the tree? Let that old tree die and start afresh?

There is wonderfully sound logic in this. With that good fruit, there will be healthy seeds which might be used to plant new trees in a new time and place. With what we know now, we might eventually produce a more disease-resistant tree, or have in place various early warning systems to stop any pathology before it spreads. Or perhaps choose to live far from trees, and enjoy the openness and expansiveness of the savannah, the desert, the tundra, the ocean. I love such wild and wide fields myself. But then: wouldn’t this choice still be a choice for something specific, something particular? The decision to avoid the old paths and particulars is itself a new path and particular. Pathlessness is a path. Treelessness is a specific geography.

(Brief related tangent: If, as one scholar-friend puts it, religion/spirituality is more widely defined as individual and communal “meaning-generative pursuit,” there really is no way to avoid “religion” if we embrace our creaturely drives to yearn and seek and struggle and deepen. Thus, even atheism and agnosticism – when understood as meaning-generative pursuits – are religions.)

The particular is unavoidable. We are born of a certain mother, in a particular place and time, in specific circumstances. The kind of nutrition, care, and experiences that befall us affect how we grow and who we will become. And this brings me closer to the heart of the original question: isn’t a healthy desert a better “particularity” than a sick tree?

For many people: yes, absolutely! Some people have been forced to eat toxic fruit and need to purge themselves of its poisons. Others have developed debilitating allergies to the tree’s pollens, and need to situate themselves far away from forests and wooded lands. Still others have had to escape rotted-out branches full of decay, fungi, and parasites in order to simply survive. To flee from wooded territories is to live and to thrive. 

And then, of course, there are those who are native to the desert.

But for some of us, there is still great value in a venerable-yet-ailing-and-dying tree…

Perhaps I find myself most “at home” near a border of sorts, basking at the edges of lush tree-shade while perusing the fields and wilderness just beyond it. I know that the tree is both both diseased and healthy, both dying and rising. I recognize that some diseased and decaying branches must, and are, being pruned away in a process that frequently feels too slow for me and for many. But in this life that I have been given, I seem to have been called to tend to this particular tree. The open fields beyond this tree – as well as other trees in the vicinity -- are beautiful and I am welcome to visit them and savor their beauty and nourishment. But my path is to always return to the tree that sheltered and sustained me before my first inklings of awareness about the nature of trees and woods and fields. I ponder the mystery of the surrounding savannahs, streams, star-fields and silences as I sit under this particular tree that has been given to me.

And ultimately, this tree is not a static, stable entity anyway, but rather a series of creative turns and movements, a flow-ering, a cosmic dying-birthing-changing process involving elements and energies seen and unseen. As I tend to this tree and as I value the beauty of other trees and other geographies, I participate in a great current, a shimmering forth, of Being. I recognize myself, along with all others, as that which blooms and dies and transforms.

But this I do from a particular place: this moment that I have been given, this spot near the edge of the shade of one branch of one tree, with a view of fields and sky.

Synchronicity, Sweet and Spooky

My arrival at St. Anthony’s in the Sierra Nevada foothills coincides with a powerful July heatwave. It is 106 F in the breeze, according to my car thermometer. Just carting my luggage from my car to the lobby -- across blacktop pavement -- melts about a quarter-inch off the soles of my sandals.

My simple room, thank the graces that be, is strongly, deliciously, air-conditioned. Summer is the off-season here; and I relish the quiet, which is made more palpable, somehow, by the constant hum of the cooling unit. I am here for three days to pray, read, and write in semi-solitude. There will definitely be no hiking. A few others are gathered on this hot mountain for different varieties of retreats: a Mexican nun, a guitar-playing mom and liturgist, and about two dozen Hindus for communal bhakti yoga practice. (Since the majority of the retreatants are vegetarian bhaktas, our meals include basmati rice, delectable curries, kefir, nuts, and fresh fruits and vegetables. Every bite is exquisite—who could have guessed that the best Indian food in the Sierra is served at a Catholic retreat center?)

I spend most of my time in my room – leaving it mainly for morning mass and for meals in the dining hall. But one afternoon, having discovered how to operate the air conditioning in the Friar’s Chapel, I trek there for a solitary hour of silent prayer. This chapel, situated at the far end of a hall of meeting rooms, is adjacent to the large space where the bhaktas gather for afternoon presentations and teachings. As I tip-toe past the shoes they have left outside of the open room, I glance discreetly at their gathering. They are all sitting on the floor listening intently to a teacher, a clear-voiced man speaking Hindi. After entering the chapel, I quietly close its thick wooden door, which blocks out most sounds. Still, though, I continue to hear the voice of the teacher. I have come to the chapel to enjoy a lovely peaceful space for prayer, and for a brief moment I consider returning at a later time, thinking that the sounds from next door might be too distracting. However, the bhakta’s voice – muted somewhat by the sound of the air conditioner – is no disruption. I find, as I settle in to my seat and open myself to the spaciousness and stillness of the chapel, a subtly comforting loveliness in the rising and falling of the teacher’s voice. I have no idea what he is saying and no notion of the specifics of his presentation. I allow myself to settle in to the richness of this moment, and even though I am “alone” in the chapel, I am also “accompanied” -- gathered alongside a community of devotees whose presence is, apparently, bringing forth an unexpected tenderness and gratitude in my heart. As I remain sitting in silence, letting go and opening and surrendering to a current of prayer, a quiet radiance blossoms and spreads. A field of blessing is here. 

*   *   *   *

Later, in the dark heat of the evening, about fifteen of us gather outside under the stars, lining up next to the statue of St. Anthony. Fr. John has invited everyone to gaze through his telescope. The bright, clear views of Saturn’s rings elicits several oohs and ahhs. I am struck by how large and near the planet seems after viewing it through the telescope. Then, as I look with unaided eyes at other parts of the sky, the unimaginable vastness of the cosmos feels – somehow -- close, touchable, within reach. “Look over there,” I say to the people next to me, pointing to one of the celestial lights just above our horizon. “That’s Venus, right?” “Yes it is,” someone answers. “Bright as the full moon at this time of year.”
            A turbaned man turns to Fr. John. “What is it that you say,” he muses, chuckling, “…the kingdom of heaven is at hand?”

*   *   *   *

On my final evening of my stay, I sit in my room, browsing through a small booklet I found at the St. Anthony gift shop: “The Appearances of the Blessed Virgin Mary.”  It is pious, straightforward, sentimental – not my usual fare when it comes to reading about religion and spirituality. I am drawn to it, though, for several reasons. One: I had a childhood fear of (and fascination with) Marian apparitions – spurred in part by multiple viewings of movies like The Song of Bernadette; Two: I am writing a work that spends some time narrating and exploring those early fears; and three: the booklet includes accounts of apparitions from around the world, including ones that I had not encountered before, such as Our Lady of Akita (Japan), Our Lady of Kibeho (Rwanda), and Our Lady of Soufanieh (Syria). Flipping through the booklet, I also notice and appreciate a caveat in its first few pages: “We must keep in mind that apparitions are adapted to those who receive them and that visionaries perceive them according to their own capacity.”

I glance up to ponder this point, and outside the window there is a sunset so stunning that it makes me gasp. Talk about an apparition, I say to myself, laughing and shaking my head. I grab my cell phone and head outside. Here’s one vision that will be captured by phone-camera, at least.

The face of my phone lights up to reveal a text-message. It is from my sister in the Midwest: “Prayed for you at church today. Love you. Hope you felt the presence of the Holy Spirit around 7 p.m. CT. Hugz.”

Now, this is wild and strange and uncanny. First of all: My sister does not know I am on a short retreat, and she has never texted me before in such a clearly time-specific way about prayer. Secondly: The time she indicates (7 p.m. CT) reveals that her prayer occurred while I was praying the previous day, in that field of blessing with the bhaktas. Thirdly: St. Anthony’s Retreat Center is in an area serviced solely by AT&T, and I do not have AT&T as my cell-phone carrier. I even checked, on the first day of my retreat, noticing that my phone indicated “no service.” I should not have received her message until much, much later, until after I had driven back down from the mountains. (I also immediately tried to send a text-message back to her in response, and my phone simply said “unable to send message.”)

My rational mind wants to find logical explanations for incidents like this, and I know that plenty of folks could probably uncover something commonsensically explicable about synchronicities and mysterious confluences and spooky-action-at-a-distance blessings. But to my heart, this little series of events at St. Anthony’s feels like a wink and a kiss and a nudge from God. And a reminder to pray always, as Mary apparently keeps asking of us, because the field of blessing is both close and boundless. 

Pax Christi: Embracing the Future with Confidence and Hope

The Catholic peace organization Pax Christi  just wrapped up its fortieth national conference in Atlanta, Georgia. I did not attend, but received updates, audio files, and photos from each day of the event. I was glad to see that Bryan Massingale was one of the keynote speakers, and I wanted to share the outline/ highlights of his talk: 

1. If Pax-Christi USA is to remain relevant and on the frontier of 
    peace-making with justice
    ....It must become proactively and intentionally 
    multicultural. 


2. If PC USA is to remain relevant and on the frontier of peace-making with justice . . . 
     It must not only claim that it is anti-racist, but must also cultivate cross-racial solidarity.

     -->THE BOTTOM LINE:  If PC USA is to have a future in a browning nation and Church,
             It must not only claim that it is anti-racist, but must also cultivate 
             cross-racial solidarity... and confront and lament its unconscious 
             racial malformation.

3.  If PC USA is to remain relevant and on the frontier of peace-making with justice . . . 
     It must be perceived not just as anti-war, but also make explicit linkages 
     between peacemaking, consumerism, and ecological justice. 

4.  If PC USA is to remain relevant and on the frontier of peace-making with justice . . . 
     It must intentionally welcome people of all gender identities and sexual 
     orientations.

5. If PC USA is to remain relevant and on the frontier of peace-making with justice . . . 
     It must embrace a comprehensive justice vision, one that the Bible 
     describes as "Shalom."

6. If PC USA is to remain relevant and on the frontier of peace-making with justice . . . 
    Its members (both organizationally and individually) will have to develop 
    contemplative stances and practices.
   

Book Spine Blessing

I entered this into the National Library Week Book Spine Poetry Contest a few weeks back. It's a fun way to toy with found art. Below are the lines I intended for the poem (there is a book's subtitle that I would want to leave out) --

Blessed are thou

on the road

naked

immediate as air

somewhere in advance of nowhere

tattoos on the heart

writing down the bones

how much is enough?

--when the heart waits

everything belongs.

Peace in Time of the Storm

Not much time to check in here lately with a work deadline looming! But I want to share some Easter joy with this gorgeous a-cappella rendition of a gospel favorite of mine, Richard Smallwood's "Total Praise." Alleluia and amen!

Here is the YouTube link in case the above video 

does not play.

Papa Francesco Could Surprise Us

You just never know. There is always so much more to a book than its cover.

I'm not much of a papist. But I was blown away when I first heard the new pope was a Jesuit, and that he had chosen the name of Francis in honor of St. Francis of Assisi, founder of the Franciscans, lover of the poor, and patron saint of the environment. Pope Francis's advocacy for the poor and preference for a humble, no-frills lifestyle is already well-known. In the homily during his inaugural Mass, he spoke again of the call to love and serve the poor, address global economic privations, protect creation (aka the environment), and to "not be afraid of tenderness, of goodness." He also addressed non-Catholics, non-Christians, and non-religious people with warmth and respect, believing everyone to be a child of God. (Read the full text of his homily here.) 

So, for me, his past strong admonitions against gay marriage and gay adoptions stand out in stark and painful contrast to everything else about him that appears humble, gentle, self-effacing, and welcoming. Likening gay marriage to "a destructive attack on God's plan" and gay adoption to "discrimination" against children is about the harshest sentiment I've seen on this issue among the hierarchy. I realize that high-level Catholic church leaders are not likely to change their tune on sexuality-related issues anytime soon. And of course, greed and world poverty are HUGE problems that demand more immediate attention. But the condemnation -- particularly of gay adoption -- stings. As an adoptee and as a friend to gay parents with adopted children, his stern disapproval feels unloving and un-Christian.

This article in the New York Times, however, paints a different picture. While still archbishop of Buenos Aires, Pope Francis actually proposed that the church support civil unions for gay couples, an idea that inflamed a gathering of bishops in 2010 -- who, of course, rejected his proposal. Afterwards, in more public arenas, he staunchly opposed gay marriage, which was eventually legalized in Argentina.

"Faced with the near-certain passage of the gay-marriage bill," says biographer Sergio Rubin, as quoted in the New York Times, "[then] Cardinal Bergoglio offered the civil-union compromise as 'the lesser of two evils.' He wagered on a position of greater dialogue with society."

This suggests that Pope Francis may have more flexibility than either of the previous two popes on these issues. While I'm not really expecting him to make any huge breaks with church tradition, the fact that he is open to measured compromise and "dialogue with society" leaves me feeling more hope about what might be ahead for our scarred and tattered church. If Pope Francis is genuinely humble, the combination of Jesuit discernment and Franciscan compassion could open up new terrain for us.

Click here to read the rest of the NYT article "On Gay Unions, a Pragmatist Before He Was Pope."

Scandal and Grace

How much I criticize you, my church, and yet how much I love you!

You have made me suffer more than anyone and yet I owe more to you than anyone.

I should like to see you destroyed and yet I need your presence.

You have given me much scandal and yet you alone have made me understand holiness.

Never in this world have I seen anything more compromised, more false, yet never have I touched anything more pure, more generous, or more beautiful.

Countless times I have felt like slamming the door of my soul in your face -- and yet every night, I have prayed that I might die in your sure arms!

No, I cannot be free of you, for I am one with you, even if not completely you.

Then too -- where would I go?

To build another church?

But I could not build one without the same defects, for they are my defects. And again, if I were to build another church, it would be my church, not Christ's church.

No. I am old enough. I know better!


--Carlo Carretto, paraphrased by Ronald Rolheiser in his book The Holy Longing.
This is from the closing section of Carlo Carretto's book, I Sought and I Found. Carretto (1910 - 1988) led an Italian youth movement, Catholic Action, which aimed to promote the social message of the church. Later, he became a member of the Little Brothers of Jesus, a community of Saharan desert contemplatives. Eventually Carretto settled in Spello, Italy, (near Assisi) where he lived the rest of his days writing and leading retreats. NCR contributor Jerry Ryan notes that Carretto "had harsh words for many of the externals of the church but was fiercely in love with its inner mystery."

Francis

"Francis, go and repair my house, 
which, as you see, is falling into ruin."

Francis. Francisco. Franchesco.

Yes, my heart did fill up when I first heard that name.

For now let us not focus on any great acts or heartbreaking stances we might discover in the life of one man, Jorge Bergoglio. Like all of us he has been molded, for better and for worse, by a culture, an era, a schooling.

Instead, may we, as a body of Christ, take that chosen name of Francis into the depths of our brokenness. May that name, Francis, be a clarion call, a communal beckoning, a groan of the spirit that rushes us to love and restore and renew our shell-shocked church and battle-scarred world.

It is not up to one selected man. It is not up to the cardinals and bishops. It is not up to the fathers and the monks and the sisters. It is up to all and each of us, through and in and with our compassionate and ever-flowering Christ, to hear the cry of the poor, to be made into channels of peace, to wrap the wounds of the bleeding, to weep with the brokenhearted, to embrace the neglected and abandoned, to bring love where there has been hatred, to understand rather than be understood, to walk gently on our mother Earth.

And this we are called to do in spite of -- and because of -- our flaws, limitations, youth, age, culturally-inherited hatreds, political leanings, past mistakes, stupidities, hip rationalizations, myopias, complacencies, and hesitations. This we are to do within whatever ordinary or extraordinary lives we find ourselves living.

This we are to do alongside each other -- in little, hidden ways, or in big, obvious ways -- in solitude, in family, or in community -- trusting that there is a wild grace and power and nourishment in surrendering, as disciples and journeyers on a path of Heart, to humanity's inevitable mutuality and common destiny in realms we cannot now fathom.

In doing this, we will bless the memory and the name and the work and the heart of Francis.

                   From Franco Zeffirelli's film on the early life of St. Francis of Assisi -- Brother Sun, Sister Moon

Catholics Gone Wild

So the 2013 papal conclave is well under way. First day: black smoke, no pope.

And the news-making folks are on top of it like a fly on honey (or poop--take your pick). "We are just so taken with the ritual and the majesty of it all," gushed one wide-eyed correspondent in front of a sun-drenched St. Peter's Basilica. "It's one of those events that happens once in a generation. And the pomp and circumstance has been phenomenal!"

I am watching some of this coverage too, I confess -- with a queasy mixture of hope, trepidation, and embarrassment. I recognize that this monarchical, pageant-filled aspect of Catholicism is a part of what the church is, and that the spectacle appeals to many. But it is also the element of the institutional church that I feel most distanced from. When I stepped back into my native faith more than a decade ago, it had nothing at all to do with the papacy, or the pageantry, or the dogmas, or even the Catechism of the Catholic Church. I was beckoned back by a wild and magnaminous Mystery that streams deep in the heart of all that lives and dies. Church is simply one of its collectively sculpted vessels, a chipped and cracked receptacle that has drawn me back into its hold against all my good sense.

And, truth be told, these are my favorite Cardinals:

But I have to admit that this past church year -- though replete with heartbreaking scandal and new disappointments, as always -- has been like a wild breeze a-blowin'. Here's a heretic's-eye-view of some highlights:

2012 is the fiftieth anniversary of the beginning of Vatican II, a series of formal meetings among bishops that resulted in various modern reforms to the church. Benedict XVI -- who, as theological expert Joseph Ratzinger was (interestingly) a fairly progressive voice during V-II-- declares a Year of Faith for all Catholics, inviting us to "study and reflect on the documents of Vatican II and the catechism." (And, um, I haven't done this. Yet.)

On February 11, 2013, just before the beginning of Lent, Pope B announces that he will resign. The reactions vary widely. Rumors and speculations fly. Does Pope B want to secure protection in perpetuity against indictment or arrest for whatever role he played, by design or by neglect, in crimes of the Church? Is some twisted new conspiracy at play? Are a cadre of Vatican priests really engaging in all-night sex romps at Roman saunas?

Or can it be that -- wait for it ... wait for it -- B is simply old, frail, and recognizing that he needs to hand over the car keys????

At any rate, just hours after the pope announces his resignation, Nature, always the diva, lends a dramatic touch. 

Three days after his resignation, an earthquake rattles the pope-emeritus's temporary new abode in Castel Gandolfo:

Some people want to find significance in this -- especially after that lightning strike at the Vatican -- and the "three days later" thing tends to tug at the Christian heart. But folks: it was a mild earthquake, and Italy is earthquake country. (The lightning and quake would make great fodder for a Cecil B. DeMille movie, though.)

Anyway, one Italian priest was apparently pretty pissed about the pope's abdication: He burned a photo of B in the middle of a Sunday Mass. The "Old-popes-don't-quit, they-simply-keep-aging-and-getting-more-frail-until God-calls-em-home" school of pastoral care.

But the reaction in my neck of the woods was more along these lines:

In a word: ebullient. A friend of mine who is active in Call to Action sent out an e-mail and sounded downright breathless: "I've been singing all day -- 'this is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it!' I am so full of new hope and never-ceasing trust in our Creator Spirit .... I feel totally convinced that this step will be the beginning of healing in our ailing Church....For all of us reformers, our ardent prayers for reform and renewal have been heard .... Therefore we must continue with our positive work of rebuilding our Church...!"

(I won't go into details here in this post: Suffice it to say that a fair number of American Catholics -- lay and clergy-- were not too thrilled when B, aka God's Rottweiler in the days of John Paul II, became pope...)

A few shenanigans occurred as the cardinals began streaming into Rome from around the world. One dude donned a black cassock, tied a fuchsia scarf around his waist, and almost passed as a Red Hat. Except, well, he wore a black fedora.

He could have taken some tips from the "Cardinal Fashion Show: The Do's and Don'ts of Vatican Wear This Fashion Season."  (Bless him, though -- he told reporters he was there to deliver a message about the hierarchy's protection of abusive priests.)

In the meantime, historian and author Garry Wills appeared on The Colbert Report -- two devout Catholics tongue-in-cheekedly chewing the fat -- to discuss Wills' new book Why Priests? A Failed Tradition. His basic argument, as quoted from his New York Times editorial, is: "Jesus ... said to Peter, 'You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church.' But Peter was addressed as a faithful disciple, not as a priest or a pope. There were no priests in Peter's time, and no popes. Paul never called himself or any of his co-workers priests. He did not offer sacrifice. Those ideas came in later, through weird arguments contained in the anonymous Epistle to the Hebrews. The claim of priests and popes to be the sole conduits of grace is a remnant of the era of papal monarchy. We are watching that era fade."

I love when Christian and Jewish and Muslim scholars say that the Bible contains weird arguments. Puts a spring in my step.

Adding to the spirit of levity are some cute "campaign jingles" created by fans of some of the papabile. A Facebook connection pointed out this video singing the praises of Cardinal Tagle, a young, moderate, and net-savvy candidate from the Philippines (and one who has also called for a "humbler, quieter church."):

In other news, my parish hosted a visiting priest who gave a well-attended talk on Vatican II -- specifically its "spirit of openness about the role of the laity." During the question-and-answer period, a curmudgeonly, more traditionally-minded gentleman said: "I'm very disturbed by all the divisions in the church. I watch EWTN (a largely conservative Catholic TV and radio station) and it upsets me very much to see how many people are talking about gay marriage and women priests." (Ballsy guy, I have to admit, in a gathering that was 70 percent female). I felt the room bristling.

Although he skirted things somewhat, I was grateful for the visiting priest's quiet response: "I don't know what's ahead for us as a church. Yes, we have factions and disagreements, and the challenges we face are daunting. But I do know that gay people are our brothers and sisters, and they are deserving of God's love and our love." The room erupted in applause. "Thank you -- but I'm not saying that for applause. I'm saying that because that is actually what our church teaches." And then he reiterated his main point of the evening: "As Lumen Gentium [a principal document of Vatican II] says, all people are called to be holy, and all honorable walks of life are the means of growing in holiness."

And -- wait for it ... wait for it -- the visiting Father suggested, with a respectful smile, that folks who are feeling anxious might want to watch a little less EWTN.

Truly, a day that the Lord has made.

Pope Hopes

I haven't thought that much about who might be the next pope (and frankly I kinda dig being popelessly devoted) but I was surprised to read in Peter Daly's National Catholic Reporter column that there is nothing in canon law that requires a pope to first be a cardinal. Since popes are elected by the College of Cardinals  -- and since it seems (in my lifetime, at least) that they always choose one of their own -- I just figured that only a cardinal could be pope. But alas, my presumption was wrong, and I'm loving it. I'm savoring living in this brief popeless moment, dreaming and musing wildly about who it could be: Sister Simone Campbell? Bryan Massingale? Yoda? Stephen Colbert? Vaticat?

James Martin, S.J.

I got to hear the Jesuit James Martin speak at the Religious Education Congress in L.A. this past weekend. (The REC, which was awesome as usual, is an annual gathering of about 40,000 Catholics and sundry other faithful folks who come to experience the wisdom, music, and art of some of the church's best teachers, liturgists, poets, artists, philosophers, and rabblerousers). Martin, in great form, officially announced his candidacy for pope. "Why not?" he quipped. "I'm half-Italian. I speak several languages -- perhaps not all that well, but who does? I'm very organized -- for example, I never walk around looking for my eyeglasses only to discover that they've been on my head the whole time. And I'm very humble. Now: My campaigning for pope may make me seem a tad less humble than you might hope for. But isn't the fact that I'm willing to campaign a sign of my humility? A less humble guy would assume that everyone already knows that he'd be a good candidate and so wouldn't say anything out of his pride. Kind of counterintuitive, huh? Ergo: Since I'm campaigning, I'm tops when it comes to humility." (Check out Martin's blog for a longer list of  reasons why he should be pope). 

I also say amen to much of what Fr. Peter Daly wrote in his column, "A Parish Priest's Hopes for the Next Pope." Here's an excerpt:

 Peter Daly

"I hope we get somebody who has not lived exclusively in the world of chancery offices where people give him deference and obedience all the time. I hope we get someone who has dialogued with evangelicals, Muslims and atheists as equals. It would be nice if he has a few friends who are Protestant clergy and he has come to respect them as intelligent and sincere Christians....

I hope he has a lot of nieces and nephews who have challenged him around the dinner table and in family gatherings. Maybe some of them have married outside the church or have left the church to join other religions. He has attended their weddings only as a family member. Perhaps one of those nieces and nephews has come out to him as gay and he has had to love them still.

I hope he has several strong-willed and outspoken biological sisters who have more than a streak of feminism. Maybe they have told their brother that they use birth control. Maybe they have responsible and substantial careers outside the home where women are the boss....

I hope we get somebody who is in touch with his own humanity. It would be nice if he was a man who admits that he, too, is a sexual being who has struggled with human desires and impulses like everybody else.

I hope we get a man with a sense of humor. It would be nice if he was not too much of a ninny. He might even be able to tell a joke once in a while and laugh at himself.

Vaticat, aka Lorenzo the Cat

I hope we get somebody who puts on his pants one leg at a time. In fact, it would be nice if he would wear pants. Clerics should leave behind the silly affectation of dressing like they are still living in some Renaissance villa or a Baroque painting.

I hope we get a man who knows what it is like to be poor. It would be nice if he has dealt with the homeless and drug addicts and the sick for a few years of his life. It would be good if he has had to struggle like the rest of humanity for his daily bread. It would be nice if he has held a job and had to pay his own bills..."

Make it so, cardinals! 

Click here for the rest of Daly's column.   

So Why in the Hell Am I Still Catholic?

If I am to believe most of the respondents to one Washington Post editorial on the sins of Cardinal Roger Mahony (whose decades-old cover-ups have absolutely broken my heart), I am, at best, weak and sheep-like and at worst, sick, evil, and depraved because I am still a Catholic – remaining part of an institution led by a global cabal of pedophiles and pedophile protectors. Any time I tithe to the church or to a church-affiliated group, many claim, my money somehow shoots straight into a huge Vatican treasury that supports organized pedophilia. I am not just complicit; I am part of the cover-up and part of the system that sanctions child sexual abuse and soul-murder:

 --“Whenever a Catholic gives money to the church, it helps cover up sex crimes against children. I wonder how such a person lives with himself.”

 --“I could never associate myself with an institution as corrupt, misogynistic and perverted as the Catholic church.”

 --“The Catholic Church has degenerated into an international cabal perpetrating or abetting child molestation… How can any well-meaning, thoughtful individual remain associated with such an organization?”

 --“I love how Catholics are so concerned for the unborn but clearly could care less about the children who were molested.”

--“For the absolute life of me, I cannot fathom how any practicing Roman Catholic could have put so much as a thin dime into a weekly collection plate these past 10 years for all that these proven moral reprobates have done. They are not to be trusted with either money or children.”

--“Can there be any doubt that the sheep-minded Catholic faithful are the fundamental co-enablers of those princely pedophile co-enablers whom the faithful look bovinely up to as their shepherds? Primeval and disgusting.”

And on and on . . . (There are also a lot of “gays are pedophiles” posts, but I won’t get into those. I do recognize that a lot of people enjoy being mean on public forums, and that they don’t speak for everyone.)

A couple of kinder responses emerged too, which many a Catholic could have written. Here’s one:

“No one in the Church denies that there are grave problems to address, and no one supports protecting pedophiles. We love the Church, and are heartsick over these awful crimes. The Church is far more than a few deviant priests and bishops, I wish that Catholic bashers could see that. Most priests are good, decent and devout men. I know a lot of them and respect them. I've never known a single priest to do anything like this. It's only a small fraction of priests that have committed these atrocious acts, but unfortunately, it only takes a small number of people to do a lot of damage in any institution. I would not expect Muslims to leave their faith simply because a small number of Muslims (and their leaders) are terrorists or support terrorism. They love their faith and remain true to it. It's the same with Catholics. We love our Church, consider it a Holy gift, and hope to purge it of those who would cause it damage. If you knew some Catholics and actually met a few priests and talked to them honestly, you might change your view just a little. There's no question that terrible things have happened in the Church, we understand that. We hope that critics of the Church understand that we are all not wicked and evil people blindly ignoring the situation.”

I have not gone on to read all 595 responses, but you get the picture.

First, let me say something about churchgoers’ complicity and culpability. I’m going to offer an imperfect analogy that might be a little overused and obvious: that of living and paying taxes in a country headed by a government that has frequently made horrible, murderous choices. In the year 2000, the U.S. Supreme Court – just five out of nine people – decided that George W. Bush would be the president despite major electoral shenanigans and Al Gore winning the popular vote. After the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the U.S., Bush’s response was to invade Afghanistan and Iraq – a disastrous turn of events, in my opinion. My husband and I never supported these wars. Instead, we protested them by participating in dozens of anti-war demonstrations in our city and region and by contributing funds to groups advocating for peaceful solutions and international dialogue. My husband became a long-term volunteer with GI Rights, an organization offering alternatives for troops who questioned these wars, including those who sought conscientious objector status and others who sought honorable discharges after suffering injuries and post-traumatic stress disorder.

During all of this, we still remained United States citizens, and we still paid taxes. Why? Because this is our home, and we love our country. Even during that sickening wave of rabid nationalism and anti-Arab / anti-Muslim hysteria in the wake of 9/11, when it seemed we were the only ones on our street who did not sport huge American flags and “United We Stand” bumperstickers, the U.S. was still our home, and we loved it. (There was a point, however, after Bush’s second inauguration, when we considered leaving. One of our friends actually did leave and now lives in an ex-pat community in Mexico, although she still retains her U.S. citizenship). But the fact is: there is still a lot of good in this country and in the people here. U.S. history is both beautiful and horrible, but what makes it beautiful is what makes it worth staying here and fighting the good fight. For every Dick Cheney and Karl Rove, we’ve got a Martin Luther King Jr. or an Elizabeth Warren. We’ve got the Klan and Birchers and White Citizens’ councils, but the abolitionists and desegregationists and civil rights activists ultimately held sway – even though things on that front were looking really bad in, say, 1890 or so…

I can only imagine how “Americans” must have appeared to Europeans or Egyptians or New Zealanders or Argentinians after Bush/Cheney et al’s invasion of Iraq. We must have looked really whack. So this is something to keep in mind: If you’re looking at a country -- or an institution or any large system – from the outside, its regular folks start to seem whack when their leaders commit crimes or act deplorably. And of course, at least some of the people ARE whack! But the whack ones are not necessarily representative. And what you are able to see from a distance reveals just a sliver of the story.

Let’s say my husband and I had chosen to leave the U.S. back in 2003, like our friend did. What if we had left? Or stopped paying taxes? Or renounced our citizenship? A decent argument could be made for those alternatives. It might have been a deeply commendable and admirable choice, to stop lending ourselves in any way to a system responsible for more than 173,000 deaths (according to Iraq Body Count Project), including at least 67,000 civilian deaths in Iraq and Afghanistan (according to Wikileaks) and 4500 U.S. troop deaths. (Not to mention the tortured and the hundreds of thousands still living with deep physical, mental, and spiritual wounds…)  But had we left, I suspect that we would still think of the U.S. as home. I suspect that our country, our homeland, would remain embedded in our hearts, coloring our outlook and choices for the rest of our lives. Certainly the culture of our new residence would eventually take root too. But I don’t think home would ever completely leave us.

I have wandered a bit from my main point, so let me get to it: Ordinary Catholics are not complicit in the church hierarchy’s protection of pedophiles any more (or less) than a regular U.S. citizen is complicit in the dangerously misguided choices some of its leaders make. When our hearts are broken, when we struggle with doubt, when we lovingly dissent, when we challenge the powers-that-be, when we pray and work for justice, when we do not turn away from the wounded, and when we walk with Christ, we are not complying with criminal decisions and high-level cover-ups.

One more thing, for those who question tithing: There many different ways to tithe to the Catholic church (or any denomination). Folks can contribute to church-affiliated (and non-proselytizing) organizations that work with and for the poor (Catholic Relief Services and Mercy Volunteer Corps are two examples), to reform-minded groups such as SNAP (Survivors Network of Those Abused by Priests), Call to Action, Dignity (supporting LGBT Catholics), NETWORK (a Catholic social justice lobby), Pax Christi (a Catholic peace and justice organization) or Women’s Ordination Conference, just to name a few (and, yes, revealing some of my preferences). People can also tithe in non-monetary ways by offering their time, energy, and love to soup kitchens, homeless shelters, safe houses for those escaping domestic violence or human trafficking, hospices, prisons, groups like ICWJ (Interfaith Committee for Worker Justice), Just Faith, and the like. There is even “protest tithing”: when parishioners send a penny (or a wooden nickel) to their local diocese’s annual appeal for funds, along with a note of explanation.

Okay. Thank you for hearing me vent, if you have read this far. And let me say: this is mostly a rebuttal to the Catholic-bashing I saw in the responses to the Washington Post’s editorial – but it’s also a reply to friends who wonder why I stay in the church. It’s an incomplete reply, because my reasons for staying involve rich complexities that cannot be conveyed in a few paragraphs. For now, I’m just inviting people to step back from the hyperbole and wild presumptions being tossed about. I am not trying to make any apologies or excuses for the crushingly sad choices the hierarchy and some of the clergy have made. Those choices are devastating and will reverberate far beyond this troubling moment. Yet today’s hierarchy – though powerful -- is a small part of a wide and diverse Christian body. This church is comprised mostly of ordinary folks seeking to live the Gospel and Christ’s call to loving engagement in day-to-day life. We are everyday people, we care about children, and we are hurt and deeply distressed by our leaders’ abuses and cover-ups.

I get that the Catholic church is not everyone's cup of tea (and I do understand that some people have had terrible experiences with pathological manifestations of Catholicism and that their best, sanest choice is to leave the church); nor is Christianity the one and only true sacred path. (Thank God.) Yet at its deeper and truer levels it can be an authentic path – a path of heart, community, self-emptying surrender, and Mystery. And, in more ways than one, Catholicism (in its healthier expression) brought me into the world. It is my spiritual home, my wide and numinous country. Even within these terrible times, I still love it.