Neither Priest Nor Lay Brother

Today marks the anniversary of the day in the novitiate when I told the novice master that, indeed, I did think that I was being called to be a consecrated religious, but not a priest. In the Dominican Order, such a vocation is now called the "cooperator brotherhood".

In the Order of Preachers there were traditionally two types of friars—the priest and the lay brother. The priests went about studying, teaching, and preaching theology while the lay brothers supported the mission through their many arts and crafts. The priests were front and center in the activity of the Order, while the lay brothers were behind the scenes, enjoying a different experience of religious life as they performed manual labor and works of charity.

These are two very understandable and beautiful vocations, but neither of them is mine. To understand my type of vocation, one has to look outside the Dominican Order to monasticism. Historically, monastic communities of men had three modes in which religious life could be lived out: the ordained choir monk, the non-ordained choir monk, and the lay brother. It was understood that priesthood for the monk was a calling from the community based on the community’s need. A man would not become a monk with a certainty that he would be ordained. He joined, rather, to benefit from the vowed life within community, with the intention to study and pray and labor as a contemplative. The goal was union with God, and the loss of preference to anything other than God. This was the ground in which a man who became a monk planted the seed of his spiritual hopes.

Since the priesthood was not the common bond that brought the monks together, and since it was not the reason men became monks, there was not, traditionally, a clerical character to monastic life. Thus, non-ordained choir monks were not viewed as being different kind of monks from the ordained monks. They received the same education, and performed similar work to the ordained monks, symbolized by the fact that both the ordained and the non-ordained monk prayed the divine office together.

The lay brothers, however, were different. They did not pray the divine office with the monks; rather, they had their own devotional schedule. They were specifically attached to the community as laborers, and were not educated in the same way as the monks. This type of religious life is familiar to Dominicans, because our Order had lay brothers, from Oderic of Normandy (the first lay brother) to the famous St. Martin de Porres. Often in hagiography, our lay brothers are described as aspiring to the “humble” way of the lay brother, preferring to sweep the floors of the convents [that the lay brothers designed and built] to preaching from the pulpit and saying Holy Mass for the faithful. They were seen as men of manual work, not intellectual work—-mystics, perhaps, but surely not doctors of the faith.

When looking at the monastic model of religious life it’s easy to see how the priesthood and the lay brotherhood were actually both supporters to the central vocation of the choir monk. As needed, the community ordained monks and accepted lay brothers into their community—-but, at the end of the day, it was still the vocation of the non-ordained choir monk that was the norm for the monastery. It may not come as a surprise, then, that St. Benedict himself was not a priest. No one, however, labels him a “lay brother” by default (which is what would have happened in the Dominican Order).

It would seem that the Dominican Order, due to its apostolic mission to preach, took on a more clerical nature, which allowed only for two of the three religious vocations I have described--religious priesthood and lay brotherhood—-but not the type of non-ordained religious brotherhood described above with non-ordained choir monks like St. Benedict. Simply put, since our mission was not to our own communities alone, but to the world, all religious who were capable of theological study and ministry were expected to be ordained. Priesthood, as a means of fulfilling the Order’s preaching mission, became the dominant form of male religious life, to the extent that Dominicans simply came to lose a sense of the religious vocation that was not joined to priesthood or which did not take the form of the lay brotherhood. In monastic terms, we didn’t have monks, nor could we yet imagine apostolic brotherhood—-the like of which now exists in congregations like the Christian Brothers, Alexian Brothers, and Marist Brothers.

Therefore, any man who entered the Order who did not feel called to priestly ministry was then considered a lay brother. This may have been a perfectly justifiable move, if, indeed, the Order only ever attracted men who wanted to be religious priests or lay brothers—-but what about men who wanted to be religious—neither priests, nor lay brothers? That is to say, what about men who had a calling to pray the Divine Office as vowed religious, to study and minister like the priests and sisters of the Order, but not to do the sacraments or to do manual labor? Was there room in the Order for these men and for this religious vocation? If there wasn't then--is there now? I think the answer to this question will determine whether or not the Dominican Order will have and attract brother vocations in the future.

...The above is based on a reflection I began to write at the start of my pastoral year. The topic of religious brotherhood is a complicated and exciting one, which I have only scratched the surface of here.
Br. Paul, OP

Anniversary of My First Communion and Confirmation: Ten Years a Catholic!

On April 22nd, 2000, an eighteen year old me was received into the Catholic Church with the completion of my initiation through the reception of the sacraments of Holy Communion and Confirmation. It was the high point in a journey toward the Catholic Church that began nearly three years before when I was still attending a Pentecostal church.

People often ask me what made me make the jump from a pretty fundamentalist Protestant group to the Catholic Church. The mystery of the journey many non-Catholics have to the Church, if not for all of them, has to do with the work of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit began prompting me to ask all the right questions. Questions like: 1) What was the historical development of Christianity? or Where did my denomination come from? 2) If there is more than one group of Christians, which one has the truth? 3) (For someone attending a charismatic community) What is all this speaking in tongues really about/what is it good for?

But this is getting a little ahead of myself. It's important for cradles Catholics to know that other Christians truly are Christians. My spiritual life began way before I entered a church or enjoyed the graces of any sacrament. My spiritual life began in my mother's arms. One of my earliest memories is of lying in bed as a tiny little toddler and listening to my mother talk about God. She would tell me stories about when she was little, and she would teach me songs that she learned at Vacation Bible Camp. This served as my introduction to God--that God was a loving God. It was no wonder, then, that when I was alone during that nap times, that I would feel God's presence with me, and it was a comforting presence. This inspired me to demand to be allowed to go to Sunday School with my brothers. My mother agreed, and so my institutional encounter with God took shape in a Pentecostal Community. My family belonged to that Christian tradition due to my great-grandfather, George Niceley, and his ministry as a Pentecostal preacher after an encounter with the Holy Spirit. [Today, by the way, is the 115th anniversary of his birth.]

As a Pentecostal, I was handed on a deep respect for Holy Scripture. The heroes and heroines of the Bible, men like Enoch and Abraham, were my role models, and I truly felt like I belonged to the family of Abraham. I attended Sunday services faithfully, and by the time I was a teenager, I had perfect attendance. Around this time, however, my cousins and brothers stopped going to church. In fact, I was the only person in my family going to church, although my relatives all were believers. This was the time when I began asking questions. I wondered why so few people were attending the church I went to. I wondered why everyone with a job at the church was part of the same family. I wondered how the people could be caught up in the Spirit during the weekend services, but still begin service on Sunday morning by talking bad about the Catholics next door.

Ah...those gambling, drinking, bingo playing Catholics. Covington has a large and visible Catholic presence. St. Mary's Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption is undoubtedly the major religious landmark of the Greater Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky metro area. In every Covington neighborhood, the Catholic church was usually the largest and most beautiful of the buildings. Right across the street from the Pentecostal church I attended was Holy Cross Church, and around the corner from my family's home was St. Benedict's Church [pictured to the left]. Downtown was the stunning Mother of God Catholic Church. All these churches with their architectural beauty and their bells tolling the holy hours spoke to my soul. I began to want to venture inside of them.

This I began to do clandestinely. I believe these secret visits to Catholic churches were the first really rebellious thing I did as a teenager. During my frequent Friday and Saturday visits to the Basilica, I encountered the Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. The church would be completely empty, and yet, in a way I had never experienced in a Protestant church, I knew that God was there in a special way. There was an automatic holiness to the place that did not just depend on whether people were gathered in prayer or not. This faith in the Blessed Sacrament, albeit primitive, is often one of the draws to the Catholic Church for other Protestants, even Protestants who celebrate some form of Holy Communion. --Once we learn about the Blessed Sacrament, an inner hunger develops within us, and we want to say, "Sir, give us this Bread from Heaven." Other Christians, we know, have said instead, "This teaching is too hard." Instead of leaving the faith, they create a new Gospel devoid of the sacramental. They celebrate the Holy Spirit, but have no faith in the Spirit's desire and ability to work through sacraments...

When I was sixteen, I realized that I could no longer attend the Pentecostal worship services. I did not believe that they had the full truth. Today, I maintain that any Christian group that has separated itself from the Catholic Church cannot have the full truth, since it preaches a different Gospel from the one handed on, not just through Holy Scripture, but through the lived-experience of Christian saints from the beginning of the Church (aka Tradition). Another way to put this would be, if the Catholic Church does not have the Truth, then Christianity, itself, is just not true. [But this view point took some time to develop.] --This point is rooted in the understanding that both the written and the oral traditions of Christianity state that Christ intended for his Church to be One, united under the leadership of his Apostles, in particular, the head apostle, St. Peter, (the first pope). This means that even the Orthodox are failing to preach the Gospel in the best way, simply because they willingly are seperated from Christ's vicar and the rest of Christ's flock...

So...why didn't I join the Church right away, like in 1998? Well, my family convinced me that the Church was Pagan and corrupt. All that gambling, and drinking, etc., proved that Catholics weren't real Christians. In fact, my family seemed not to understand--like many Protestants--that Catholicism was the original Christian Church. They did not seem to know that Catholics were Christians. [Part of this problem, of course, has to do with Catholics calling themselves "Catholic" and not "Catholic Christians" or simply "Christians"--in a more important way, however, this has to do with the disregard that some Protestants have with Christian history.] I listened to these concerns of my family and decided I would try a different church--this time, a Methodist Church. I tried Methodist because of a psychic mix up. I thought that the little stone church around the corner from my family's home was St. John's Episcopal Church. Turns out, the church had been St. John's years and years ago, but it was now St. Luke's United Methodist. I wanted an Episcopalian church, because I knew they were close to Catholicism. The Methodist community would serve me well, however, and I was baptized there on August 23rd, 1998 [The Feast of St. Rose of Lima, OP].

I was not satisfied with being Methodist, however, so I kept investigating the Catholic Church. I did this by going to Mass on Saturdays, watching EWTN, and reading about the lives of the saints. I also prayed the rosary. I was even given a miracle through the rosary. I developed a strong devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary as a result. But I believe it was the collective impact of the stories about the saints that convinced me that the Catholic Church, for all its faults, had the true gifts of the Holy Spirit, and the fullness of the Gospel Truth. The lives of people like St. Francis of Assisi were above contradiction, so closely did I see Christ mirrored in them. To this day, it is the lives of the saints that gives me the confidence I need to contradict the claims of groups like the Mormons, who say the Church Christ founded was taken up after his death. That's a lie, and no Catholic should believe it. Francis and Dominic, Therese of Liseux, Teresa of Calcutta, John XXIII--all these people lived and preached the Truth handed on by the Apostles. The Church is alive and well.

After a brief period as a Closet Catholic, I finally admitted that I wanted to join the Church. My family was less confused by this time, and I was stronger in my resolve, so I entered RCIA at Mother of God Church [pictured to the left] and received the sacraments during Holy Week and Easter Vigil of 2000.

So why Catholic?
1) An unbroken line of Apostolic Tradition
2) The transmission of Sacramental Grace, extending from Christ the High Priest through his ordained ministers
3) The witness of the lives of the saints
4) The fidelity to both Scripture and Tradition
5) The universality of the Catholic Faith & the unity of Catholics around the world
6) Most importantly: Because the Holy Spirit called me to be Catholic.

What's the Secret to being a Happy Catholic?
Well, my ten years have not been without some bumps and rebellions. What I finally had to learn--a lesson which made it possible for me to enter religious life--is that to be a Happy Catholic, you have to recognize that you come to the Church to be changed by her, you don't stay a Catholic in order to change the Church. Thinking you can change the Church based on modern sensibilities is at best ignorant and at worst arrogant. The Holy Spirit alone is in charge of directing the Church. Members of the Church are called upon to learn from the Church's store of wisdom. When you open yourself to being changed by the Church, through the graces of the Sacraments, through the learning of Scripture and Teaching, and through the interaction with the Body of Christ, you will find that a life of Grace can be yours, that freedom from sin is available to you, that your relationship with God can grow stronger. Only then can your baptismal roles of Priest, Prophet, and King be lived out rightly.
Br. Paul, OP

PS: 1) All of what I have said pertains to the Church's treasury of theological and spiritual wisdom--her divine aspects related to the revelation she has received, preaches, and defends. I am not referring to the human element of the Church, which is quite fallible, at times, and must be called to task for the sake of the integrity of the Gospel.
2) I respect my Protestant and Orthodox Christian sisters and brothers, even while I disagree with them about theology and ecclesiology, etc.

"Who do you say that I am?" Spring Retreat

I have been to the mountain to see the Lord, to feel his Spirit move within and around me, to watch the fire of Divine Mercy burn like the hottest flame to mend the brokenness of others and myself. I have been to the mountain and have come back again. But have I changed? Or did I leave the change behind? What did Peter and the others do after the Transfiguration, after Pentecost?

This past weekend, I had the amazing privilege to go on retreat again with a group of the students who attend the Newman Center on the campus of the University of New Mexico. Our theme this time was "Who do you say that I am?" As you might guess, the retreat was Christologically oriented, built around six talks: "Jesus Who Loves: My Foundation", "Jesus Who Calls: My Invitation", "Jesus Who Forgives: My Mercy and Reconciliation", "Jesus Who is Paschal Mystery: My Living Dying, and Rising", "Jesus Who Confronts Injustice: My Hope and Call to Justice", and "Jesus Who is Christ: My Lord and My God". The heart and matter of these talks is rather sensitive, if not confidential, so I won't repeat anything that I heard here--but just know that collectively, what I and the other retreat attendees heard in these talks, and in the small group talks that happened afterward, were extraordinary testimonies to the importance of grace in the struggle to have and live out the Christian faith. Each of the presenters had situations in their lives that taught them, above all, to Listen to God. And what they heard when they listened, was God's call to be in relationship with him, an invitation to rely on him. Once each of them said yes to God's call, each received a gift--healing, wisdom, direction, zeal, forgiveness, hope, faith, charity.

There were several sacramental activities that we did during the retreat. One of which was writing on a piece of cloth something that we found burdensome that we were carrying around in our hearts. We then wrapped that cloth around a stone, and then tied a rope around the stone and cloth to wear as a necklace. The weight of the stone being a symbol of the weight of the written problem. Then, on Saturday evening, before the Sacrament of Reconciliation, we were invited to take off the necklace and throw the stone, rope, and cloth into a fire--symbolizing our letting go of the problem we had identified. This was a powerful activity, as it challenged us all to take responsibility for holding on to internal worries and cares. It acknowledges that for many of us, we willingly do not move on--and by not moving on, we block God's grace and love. The exercise seemed to say to us, as Moses did to the people, "I have set before you life and death, a blessing and a curse,--choose life!" Now all I have to do is to remind myself that I have let go and moved on, that I have chosen life over a form of death.

Above all, what I witnessed on this retreat was the amazing power that love has to completely heal us. Every other activity that we did had some component of the affirmation of others tied into it. There were little bags with each persons name on them so that others could write positive notes to them, there was the exercise where we all wrote on a sheet of paper what we loved about the other, and there was a gathering around a camp fire to tell each other individually what we loved about them. But make no mistake about it, affirmations are just as challenging to the soul as criticisms. Affirmations, after all, undermine our self-conscious pettiness and self-hatred. Affirmations wrestle with our inner demons and call us out for not trusting more in others, God, and ourselves. Affirmations call us to let go of old wounds and to give more of ourselves. There's nothing easy about affirmation if you struggle with loving yourself and others.

Love moves things within us. It's the best motivator for change--the best, because it makes us want to act, but also, it calls us to act for the right cause.

So, I found myself, again, amazed at how powerful retreats can be. I was surrounded by people who were loving, and I felt that love permeating me until I couldn't help but to be joyful and hopeful. I imagined this is what the Apostles and disciples felt as they gathered as a little band of believers for prayer. I imagine, this is what the Church is supposed to be for all, still today--a refuge from hatred, a lighthouse of love.

But we all came down from the mountain. The question is, how will we continue to offer and receive love, especially when we're surrounded by people, perhaps, who do not love, or do not know how to love properly? Am I strong enough to be vulnerable and love anyway?

Preaching Notes for Sunday, April 18th--a Retreat Preaching

Read: Acts 5:27-32 & John 21-19

Who was the first best-friend you ever had? Do you remember him or her? Can you remember how you first met? Do you remember that moment when you realized that he or she had become so important to you? Can you remember the first fight you ever had? Did you make up afterward?

The first real best-friend I ever had was my cousin Ann. Ann was only about a year younger than I was, and since our moms were always getting together, we were ideal playmates. I was such a good cousin, I often played Barbies with Ann, but only with the understanding that after we spent like an hour fixing up some little house with all the usual furniture and dishes, I would get to bring out a bed sheet as a tornado or flood to wipe it all away, or, better yet, go across the room and bomb the house with Lincoln logs, or something equally violent and fun.

Ann put up with all my crazy boyness as best she could, but there were times when we argued. There was famous fight that we had over what color her Cinderella doll’s dress was. I have no idea why we were even talking about it, but at the time, it was so important for me to argue the dress was green. My cousin swore it was blue. My older brother laughed as we argued, and I ended up going to my room after my cousin said something she shouldn’t. It didn’t take long for her to come find me and apologize. A few years later, I learned I had a form of color blindness. I laughed when I found out, because I remembered the dress argument, and figured Ann was right all along.

As we got older, Ann and I went to different schools and saw less of each other. There were other friends to come, of course, and some of them, like Ann, became very important to me. It never ceases to amaze me how new and exciting people are brought into my life—people who shaped the way certain periods of my life were like.

This is what I think friendship is all about—forming relationships with people that are so deep and so open and so honest and so joyful that your life is renewed and redefined by them.

It wasn’t really until I had graduated from undergrad that I came to realize that my relationship with God was just such a friendship,--and not just a friendship like those I had with my cousin Ann and others, but a friendship on the highest level—a friendship that had remained constant, despite ups and downs and arguments. A friendship that challenged me in all the right ways to be the best person I could be—the person I was meant to be.

When I realized that, and knew that that was all due, mostly, to God’s constancy, God’s patience, and God’s love, I knew then that I was willing to do anything for God in return. I was willing even to leave the life I had behind in order to give myself to God in a more radical way. In fact, I had to do this, because I wanted to live a life totally oriented toward my best friend.

We see that very same dynamic happening at the end of today’s Gospel. To be honest, I think the “Do you love me” scene is the most beautiful and intimate scene between God and humanity in all of scripture. And I envy St. Peter, because of all the Apostles and disciples, he is the only one who is portrayed as getting to say so clearly that he didn’t just believe in Jesus—he loved him. And it is because of that love, which Jesus says surpassed that of all the other disciples and Apostles, that Peter—a simple fishermen from the countryside—was able to stand up in front of the Sanhedrin and before the High Priest, and testify that Jesus was, in fact, the Messiah, through whom God has redeemed the human race. He would later die for the name of his beloved Friend.

I have no idea is martyrdom is a part of God’s plan for my life,--but if it is, I hope that I, like St. Peter, will go to the death with great joy. True love rejoices not just in the good times spent with the beloved friend, but it also rejoices in the sacrifices we can make for that friend. I have already made simple vows and entered religious life for God, but I haven’t stopped hungering to give myself more and more to him. My life, I have realized, is for him, and belongs to him. I give it freely, and happily. This is so, because the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus have convinced me that the God who created this world is the most beautiful, loving, and awesome being that there is—and there’s nothing or nobody better that I could spend my life living for.

I tell you this, because, as this retreat comes to a close, I want all of you to leave this place having heard just one more testimony of a life changed by God’s friendship. Indeed, the heart of Catholic teaching, worship, and living is the unshakeable experience of God’s saving grace through Jesus, his Word, and his sacraments that ordinary men and women like you and me have had and shared.

But we are not a people of the past, only—our faith must be continually challenged and renewed. We must take responsibility for the strength or weakness of our faith, and strive eagerly to do better, to love more constantly, so that when Jesus asks us, “Do you love me,” we won’t foolishly say, “Who are you, Sir?”, rather, “Lord, you know everything, You know that I love you.”

Preaching Notes for 04-13-2010

(See Acts 4:32-37)
Are you an ANT or a Thrip?

Yesterday, as I was sitting outside in the cloister garden enjoying the windy weather, Fr. Kevin came out to join me. He and I took some time to look around at all the new plants that have begun to shoot up and to bud. One of the plants we looked at was a young peony bush. Kevin noted that, for the first time, this little peony bush had buds on it. While looking at the buds, we noticed that there were ants crawling all over it. If you don’t know, having ants on a peony bush is a very good thing. As Kevin explained, the ants eat off a membrane around the bud, which then allows the bud to open into a huge and sweetly scented blossom.

I suppose the sight of the peony buds with the helpful little ants made Kevin think to look at the rose tree at the center of the garden. Last year, not-so-helpful thrips bugs were feeding off the rose bush, preventing the rose buds to open into full blooms. Kevin had to treat the plant, in order to get rid of the thrips.
The contrast in these two different bugs—the helpful, and the unhelpful, made me rethink what I was hearing in this reading from the Acts of the Apostles. At face value, this reading paints a very rosy and idealistic imagine of the early Church, the community in Jerusalem. Again, it says, “the community of believers was of one heart and mind”—so everyone was agreeing with each other, they had the same vision, the same goals, and they shared everything they had with one another—a very idealistic vision of the Church.

We know, however, that this idealistic existence for the Church is quickly challenged. We learn, for example, about Ananias and Sapphira’s scheme to make everyone think that they had sold their property and given all of the money to the Church. They were liars and had to be called out by Peter. We know about Simon Magnus, who, after coming into the Church, wanted to buy the powers the Apostles were using to cure the sick. And we know from the letters of St. Paul that the communities outside Jerusalem were having their share of problems. To one community he writes that certain women stirring up trouble should be silent; to another community he condemns the practices of having potluck dinners were everyone brings something, but no one shares, and, again, he condemns the practice of the rich being treated royally by the Church, while the poor are asked to take seats on the floor at the back.

What happened? Simple. The bigger the Church grows, the harder it is to maintain a common vision—to remain of one heart and mind. These different people were working for their vision of what Church should look like, and so, the community of believers became divided, and the peace and charity which were the hallmarks of the Jerusalem community went missing.

Throughout the history of the Church, whether in the Catholic, the Orthodox, or the Protestant traditions, people have worked at getting back to that first, idealistic community. Religious communities like the Dominicans, for example, were founded with the hope that the men and women of the Order would take the Jerusalem community as their model.

This effort to reexperience the peace, charity, and energy of the Jerusalem Church is a noble cause; but success in these efforts can only be had if the individual Christians truly are committed to a vision of the Church that is beyond their own point-of-view or agenda. If we are like ANTS, then we will work for the good of the Church, doing what it asks of us. If we are like THRIPS, we will work against the Church, doing our own will.

I ask you again, are you an ANT or a Thrips? Are you of one mind and heart with the Church, or do you hope the Church to be of one mind and heart with you?
Br. Paul, OP

Picture of peony and ants borrowed from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/gaylin/3560485884/

Clash of the Titans

"I would love to go [to Greece]. I'm sure I would love to see the temples and the ruins. Fred used to tell me the myths as bedtime stories,--don't you remember, Harriet? And I've remembered them ever since." So says Clarissa Grant, a character from a story I've been working on for a while now. This animated declaration on Clarissa's part reflects my own enthusiasm for Ancient Greek mythology. I have loved the Greek myths since I was very young, and the story of Perseus's rescue of the princess Andromeda was one of the first of the myths that I learned. Thus, when I saw the preview for the remake of "Clash of the Titans"--which is a telling of Perseus's story, I was thrilled.

Sadly, in many ways, the movie did not live up to my expectations. Of course, my own expectations may be at fault for that more than the movie itself. Still, there were several changes to the original story. For one, the movie has Io, a beautiful maiden, as the guardian of Perseus, and later, it implies that she will be his future wife. Io is not originally connected with Perseus's story at all, rather, she was one of the frequent victims of Zeus' lust. She was turned into a white heifer, not cursed to live eternally. Two, Perseus does, in fact, marry the princess Andromeda after he rescues her from the Cetus [not the "cracken"]. Also, Perseus used the winged shoes of Hermes, not Pegasus, to rescue Andromeda with the help of Medusa's head. I think because the writers added Io to the story, they paid much less attention to Andromeda, who should have received much more press, along with the story of her own corrupt family.

The most glaring of the changes for me was the explanation the movie gave for Medusa's wretched condition as a gorgon whose glance could turn any living thing into stone. According to the movie, Medusa was trying to fend off the unwanted sexual advances of the sea god, Poseidon when she ran for refuge to the temple of Athena, the Virgin Goddess, and pleaded for Athena's help. Instead of helping, Athena allowed Medusa to be raped in her temple. When Medusa then asked Athena for comfort afterward, Athena cursed her with the hideous gaze that could turn men to stone. This is a corruption of one of the original Medusa stories. In that story, Medusa was a priestess of the Goddess Athena. One day, she willingly violated the sanctity of Athena's temple by having relations with Poseidon there. In her justified anger, Athena cursed Medusa. Another story has it that Medusa was a beautiful woman who boasted that she was more beautiful than Athena [a stupid thing to do, of course]. The goddess then humbled Medusa by making her gaze leathal to all men. In either case, Medusa's curse was always seen as justified. It's true, Athena had no love for Medusa, but the fault was all Medusa's, which is why Perseus later gives the head of Medusa to Athena [this is also so, because Athena helped him to be victorius]. Athena then places the head atop the surface of her shield as a ward against evil. Since Athena is my favorite of all the Greek deities, I was not pleased with the unnecessary liberties the writers of the script took with Medusa's story.

Anway... The movie does provide some food for meditation--especially on the strange concept that the Ancient Greeks had about what it means to be a deity. On the one hand, you see Hades, bitter over being made the god of the underworld, seeking to manipulate the hearts of humanity as a way at getting back at his brothers, Zeus and Poseidon--whom he sees as having gotten the better end of the stick by being gods of the sea and earth, etc. His character in the movie repeatedly says that he has learned to live off the fear of humanity. This is in contrast to Zeus and the other gods and goddess of Olympus, who apparantly live off the love and prayers of humanity. Zeus claims to be a father to humanity, since it is through him that all came to be, and yet he seems not to understand humanity. Persecution and terror are used to drive people to the temples and pray for intercession. The goal of the "war with the gods", from the human point of view [Perseus's point of view], is to teach humanity to abandon the gods altogether so as to weaken them. This is the ultimate revenge of humanity for the abuses made against them by the gods. Perhaps the writers changed Medusa's back-story, because they wanted to describe Athena as equally cold as Hades and Zeus, and have Medusa (a mortal) be yet another victim of the gods.

This portrayal of divinity is fascinating, because there's an inherent weakness to the Greek deities. They "need" humanity--either humanity's love, or its fear. In contrast to this, the preface to the Eucharist prayer for Weekdays IV reads:

"You [God] have no need of our praise,
yet our desire to thank you is itself your gift.
Our prayer of thanksgiving adds nothing to your greatness,
but makes us grow in your grace,
through Jesus Christ our Lord."


Someone else somewhere put it: God wills us to love him, because he knows loving him will make us happiest. He does not, therefore, will us to love him out of some divine ego-centricism (as justified as that might be). Nor does he demand our love or obedience, because if we do not love him or obey him, he will lose power or "die", as some modern philosophers might want us to think. God is complete and perfect with or without us. His invitation to us to share in his life is a free gift on his part.

...I was thinking after the movie that one way you could make sense out of Greek theology would be to look at it in light of the "Problem of Evil", or theodicy [the study of how one can reconcile the belief in God with the existence of evil]. After all, what if their understanding of the gods and goddesses as being as equally capable of sinful acts as virtuous acts was due not only to the projection of human qualities onto their deities, but also to the lived experience that even with fervent devotion bad things could still happen to a person. For example, take the Medusa story from the movie--A woman in danger of rape pleads for a goddess' protection, in the goddess's own temple, and yet the goddess does nothing to help the woman. How was a person to understand that, unless deities were as fickle and flawed as humans?

In a way, of course, biblical literature reflects this same wrestle with the question of evil in the world in relation to God's nature. God was on your side and would protect and bless you if you were obedient and did everything right. If you were sinful, he would allow your neighbors to come and conquer your land, burn your city and temple, and take you and your family into exile. God was a merciful god, but he would also be wrathful. He was giving, but also jealous. In a way, the discussions depicted between Hades and his evil helper, and Hades and Zeus resemble, for example, the "deal making" between God and "the satan" in the Book of Job.

Yet, in the Book of Sirach it is written:

"Do not say, 'It was the Lord's doing that I fell away';
for he does not do what he hates.
Do not say, 'It was he who led me astray''
for he has no need of the sinful.
The Lord hates all abominations;
...It was he who created humankind in the beginning,
and he left them in the power of their own free choice.
If you choose, you can keep the commandments,
and to act faithfully is a matter of your own choice.
He has placed before you fire and water;
stretch out your hand for whichever you choose.
Before each person are life and death,
and whichever one chooses will be given.
For great is the wisdom of the Lord;
he is mighty in power and sees everything;
his eyes are on those who fear him,
and he knows every human action.
He has not commanded anyone to be wicked,
and he has not given anyone permission to sin."

(Sirach 15:11-20.)

One does not want to oversimplfy discussions on God's nature. After all, it is God's right, scripture affirms, to be angry with humanity over sin, and to punish us (Sirach 5:6). It is his right, also, to be clement, and show us mercy. These are not merely projections of our human nature onto God, since sin really does offend the holy order set down by God. Crimes demand a reckoning from Justice. But the author of Sirach wants to make clear that sinfulness, hatred, malice, all these things have no place in God. He who has commanded us not to be like that, could not, himself, be like that. Sirach also reaffirms that Free Choice has been given to humanity, and, from the beginning, Genesis testifies, the abuse of that freedom of choice has invited evil, suffering, and pain into our lives. And so we fall victim to our own or other people's evil. Even the Word Incarnate fell victim to evil, even to death. And yet, his story dares to say evil will not have the last word; there's something greater behind all of this suffering we do. The way to triumph over the evil we experience is to refuse to be converted to it. I think this was a major concern of the character of Perseus, in the movie, and is the reason he was so determined to do everything as "a man" and not as "a god", since he perceived divinity to be corrupt and evil.

...These are just some of the thoughts I have had as a result of seeing Clash of the Titans. So, while I agree with a fellow movie goer that some of the scenes were more Pirates of the Caribbean than Lord of the Rings or Avatar, I did find something to meditate on. I can only hope that someone will remake The Oddysey and redeem Athena's reputation as the merciful, bright-eyed goddess.

Preaching Notes for 04-09-2010

See: Acts 4:1-12 & John 21:1-14

“Have you caught anything?” A mysterious man with a funny grin calls out from the shore. Near him is a little fire by which a fish is already being cooked. Close by is some bread ready to be broken and shared. A half-naked fisherman cries back from the boat: “No—nothing.” The man on the shore laughs and shakes his head.

If you’re wondering if God had anything to do with the fishermen failing to catch any fish, wonder no more. He did. The empty net symbolizes the empty Church—empty, because the Apostles have been neglecting their sacramental ministry and their preaching duties. Jesus has come not to scold them, but to gently remind them that they have more important work to do.

We know that they take the hint, because in the reading from the Acts of the Apostles, we see Peter and John healing a man and preaching that Jesus, through the Resurrection, has been shown to be the source of Salvation for humanity. They had finally begun to act like Apostles.

These two readings are important for us to hear together, because we are a people who have just returned from the desert of Lent to stand at the Cross and witness the Lord’s death, only to awaken with Joy during the Easter Vigil, at the news of Jesus’ Resurrection. Have we, the Holy Spirit asks us through these readings, already returned to the ordinary routine of our lives? Or has something begun to stir within us—a hunger, a fire, a longing to set out on a path that is new;--Or, if not on a path that is brand-new, to set out with renewed energy on the path that we have been traveling for some time.

Where is our energy going? What do we spend our time doing? Are we hiding from our vocation to preach salvation through Jesus? If so, today is our wakeup call. Easter is too important for us to waste it on chocolate bunnies and colored eggs.

So what are we to do? Simple—we are to pattern our lives more closely to that of Jesus. We are to give of ourselves out of an extraordinary love, praying for sinners, visiting the sick, feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, comforting the dying, defending the helpless, providing for our families—but also, defending the Church, studying scripture, and learning Church teaching. Above all, we ought to preach the Good News, like the persons of the Holy Trinity itself, by delighting other people with our company—that is, learn to love so truly, so constantly, so deeply, without undue drama, without jealousy, without over-sensitivity, that we finally live out the kind of self-giving that characterizes the life of Jesus at its very core.

Friendship, therefore, is our vocation. So, let us challenge ourselves, this Easter day, to give ourselves in passionate love to others as their friend.—Then, I am sure, they will proclaim with us, Jesus has risen from the dead, alleluia, alleluia!

Surrexit Dominus Vere!

This is my tenth Easter as a Catholic. My ten years in the Church have seen some radical highs and lows.

In the world of the saints, for example, my ten years as a catholic have seen:

The canonizations of St. Faustina, St. Josephine Bakhita, St. Katharine Drexel (USA), St. Rafqa, St. Pio of Pietrelcina, St. Juan Diego, St. Gianna Beretta Molla, St. Nimatullah Kassab, St. Theodore Guerin (USA), St. Alphonsa Muttathupadathu (1st St. of India), St. Francis Coll, OP, St. Jeanne Jugan (Marie of the Cross) and St. Damien of Molokai (USA). (And soon to be, the canonization of Bl. Andre Bessette (Canada), and Bl. Mary MacKillop (1st St. of Australia.) [among others]

And the beatifications of: Bl. John XXIII, Bl. Teresa of Calcutta, Bl. Marianne Cope (USA), Bl. Basil Moreau, Bl. Louis and Marie-Azelie Martin (parents of St. Therese), and Bl. Jose Olallo Valdes (1st blessed of Cuba). (And soon to be, the beatification of Ven. John Henry Cardinal Newman.) [among others]

These are great saints, and serve to remind us all that the Holy Spirit has not abandoned the Catholic Church, but lives and moves within it, and works with men and women of every age to proclaim the highest truth--that humanity was created by God out of love; redeemed by God out of love; and called into eternal live by God out of love. God is love, and has shown that love through the giving of the Word and the Spirit. This is the Gospel passed on through the Holy Catholic Church through the message of the Holy Apostles and their bishop successors. This is the Truth upon which the Church stands, and it is the basis for the integrity of the Church, which can never be lost, so long as the Church proclaims what she has been given to proclaim.

Of course, my ten years as a Catholic have seen the development of a full-blown scandal. I was beginning my conversion process into the Church right around the time the first sexual abuse stories were coming to light. Now, I see the very pope being attacked. I see the Church leaders of the U.S., Ireland, and Germany being condemned. I see the Archbishop of Canterbury, an Anglican Church leader, using the scandal to belittle the Catholic Church, and I'm sure he isn't the only one.

But last night, at the Easter Vigil, I saw and heard, again, the reasons to be Catholic. I witnessed the sacraments of baptism and confirmation, and I participated in the sacrament of Eucharist. These sacraments are the result of a priesthood that stems from the very priesthood of Jesus Christ, which comes to us through the Apostles. It is a priesthood untainted by schism, and unblemished by scandal. To degrade the priesthood is to degrade Christ. There have always been people willing to do that, unfortunately.

I also heard the Holy Scripture proclaimed--from the story of Creation, to the blessing of the earth through Abraham, to the Exodus, to the prophets, right up to the glorious proclamation of the Gospel. I heard and rejoiced in the words of the Exultet, the Gloria, the Sanctus, and, of course, the Eucharistic Prayer.

I worshiped and prayed with men, my brothers, of the Order of Preachers, and sat near a young man soon to be my brother in the Order--All men who are imperfect, but who hunger and thirst for righteousness; men who have not given up the fight for holiness, the race for mercy, just because there have been wolves among us who seemed to us to be sheep.

I affirmed my creedal faith, along with the assembly,grateful for that faith, which was and is the work and gift of that most beautiful and adorable Holy Spirit.

I realized, again, that Hell itself can not prevail against what is good, what is true, what is beautiful--and these are the attributes of the Church. The human element of the Church has failed in places, but read the New Testament, and you will see that that has been the case from the beginning. The divine element of the Church, however, will never fail.

So, as I celebrate this tenth Easter as a Catholic, I am mindful that I am witnessing both a sad time and a triumphant time in the Church's history. For just as the Lord Jesus' humiliation and suffering were the vehicle for his Grace, so the present humiliation and suffering of his body on earth, the Church, will be the vehicle for yet another outpouring of that Grace. We are in a white-hot furnace now, but it will not destroy us. The Father's might is stronger than that of any of his foes. To his name be glory for ever. Amen.
Br. Paul, OP