Some people speak of Jesus as a commodity.  "Just get Jesus and you'll be alright."  "She's a Jesus person."  Even "What would Jesus do?," bothers me,

Young adults at a camp: "Gimmee a 'J'!" "J!!!"  Gimmee an "e!" "Eeee!" Well, you get the idea.

Jesus without reverence is not a good thing.  He is not something you buy, or use, or get familiar with like a mascot.

"At the name of Jesus, every head should bow and every knee bend....and every tonmgue proclaim that JESUS IS LORD to the glory of God the Father."

Today, at the Easter Masses which I celebrated (three of them, in three different parishes), I saw and heard Catholics walking by faith and not by sight.  Jesus was not someone to be owned but somone to discover in the same way that you fall in love with someone and come to know them more and more.

It's Easter 2013! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Pope Pancho.

Mexicans use "Pancho" as a nickname for Francisco. That custom might lead some of us to begin referring to our new Holy Father as "Pope Pancho." 

Argentinians probably used the same diminutive, but Mexicans have slang names for everyone. Maria del Carmen becomes "Cache," because she had dimpled cheeks as a baby-- she's now forty-seven and still "Cache." "Cachetes" means "cheeks" in Spanish and "Cache" sounds real cute.

If you are thin, you are "Flaco" and "Gordo" if you are chunky.  I don't even know the real name of a priest whom I met in Oaxaca who was forever lightening people's burdens by peppering his conversation with the imperative word "Animo!" -- meaning "Courgage!" He is simply "Padre Animo."

Yes, "Pancho" holds a faint echo of paunch, but that's O.K., our Pope Francis does have a bit of an
expanse at his belt-line. He looks vigorous, though, and I'll bet he can be tough as nails when he has to. That's O.K. Vigor is implied by the name Pancho.

It simply seems that we have a new pope who smiles easily and is already like a member of the family. So, Pope Pancho it is! Viva Pope Pancho!
 

Holy Thursday, Maundy Thursday, Any Thursday.

Today is the last day of Lent.  Tommorow, the triduum begins.  Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday are observances that take Lent, in a sense, to another level. For these three days, Christians walk with Our Lord on his final journey.  We are humbled by the belief that we are baptized into his death and renewed with His life.



A remembrance of our Baptism

I've been thinking, lately, of why Lutherans and other Christians refer to this thursday as "Maundy Thursday." We Catholics are focused on the holiness of thursday of this week. They are thinking of another aspect of that night.

"Maundy" refers to the commandments of the Lord which he gave that night: to do the new passover meal in his memory and to wash the feet of one another. The word comes from the latin "mandatum," a command. I like this focus on what makes thursday holy.

Our Lord not only invites us, but gives us an order: "Do this in memory of me." Every time we Christians pray the Eucharist we join Him in the saving act of His death and Resurrection. We believe that we are there with Him on Calvary at His crucifiction.

We are at the empty tomb with the women and apostles, marveling at His Resurrection. We are commanded by Our Lord not to forget Him but to celebrate His living presence at every Eucharist..

Being servants of one aonther is about as counter-cultural as you can get in our society. None of the self-help books or the audio presentations on the core values of success speak of washing anyone's feet.

We are commanded to be great by serving each other.  We can and should dry the tears of someone who is mourning a loss and not whine about our own hurts. We can feed the deepest hunger of our neighbors for warmth when our hearts are not filled with our own selves.

Holy Thursday is holy because of the example Christ gives us. That example is holy and is a gentle reminder to follow Him, if we want to be His disciples.

The holy water fonts will be dry during the triduum. On Holy Saturday evening, they will again  be filled with the new water that recalls our baptism into the life of Eucharist and service.

Pope Francis and Today's Mass of Installation.

I watched the inauguration of Pope Francis today on EWTN. You probably caught some of it, too, if not on EWTN then through coverage by the secular channels.

Because I have attended many papal Masses and visited St. Peter's Square so often, improbable as it may seem, I think of  St. Peter's Basilica with its colonades like arms spread wide to the world, as home.  I have the same warm feeling every time I go there now, but it wasn't always that way.

 In 1981,on my first visit, I entered the Piazza San Pietro from a side street and as I turned the corner, there it was, grander and more beautiful than I had expected it to be. I had to lean against one of the columns as I took the scene in: the glorious facade of St. Peter's; Michaelangelo's dome, hovering;  Bernini's columns surrounding the piazza, gathering us all into one; the obilisk surmounted by an orb and crowned with a cross; the two fountains gushing springs of living water.  For a minute or so, I could not speak. I had never been moved by any scene as much as that one. It was awesome.

Now, that awe has softened into something like love.  When I enter the square, I feel like I am being welcomed as a Catholic to the worldwide mission of the church.  There are always Catholics from
every part of the world visiting and praying in this place. I've been one of those pilgrims, regularly.

Today, as I listened to Pope Francis, I felt I was participating there with those thousands of people in front of him, although I am physically far away. Like them, my hope was renewed.

And,  I lifted my heart with all those in the square,when the pope called us in his homily to live the message of Jesus Christ.

If there were no St. Peter's Basilica, no grand colonade, no statues of  saints watching over Piazza San Pietro, we Christians would still be at it, working to build up the Body of Christ in our world. We have to keep working on the building.

Pope Francis The First, Viva!

The cardinals in choosing for the third time in a row a man from outside of Italy neatly solved the problem of asking the people of Rome to accept another foreigner as their bishop by selecting a man born in South America of immigrant Italian parents.  

Francis the First, Jorge Mario Cardinal Bergoglio has always been a promoter of justice and lover of the poor.  Like St. Francis of Assisi, Pope Francis has a radical commitment to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

I was ordained to the Catholic priesthood at a time the entire church was breathing in the fresh air of Vatican Council II.  I have also experienced the stench of sin from within the Church caused by my fellow priests. I hold both these realities in my heart

When Pope Francis came out on the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica today, he did two things that made me sit up and take notice: First, he appeared before the world dressed in a simple white cassock and zucchetto (the beanie) without other trappings of authority, which he had the right to wear. He wore no red cape trimmed in ermine and, of course, no crown.  He simply stood there for a full two minutes by himself in front of the immense crowd in St. Peter’s Square, by his action saying: “Here I am.  I am me, nothing more.”

The second thing he did before he gave his first blessing as Holy Father was to ask the crowd for a favor.   He wanted a blessing from the thousands of people in St. Peter’s Square.  He bowed profoundly and the people fell silent and prayed for him.   Only then did he offer his blessings to the city of Rome and the world.

 I think we need this pope with a holy soul and a reforming heart.

Maine guns, the NRA and a Bill of Responsibilities.

A gun for every home?  A tiny community in Maine wants to require gun ownership of every household, even thouagh the state constitution does not permit this kind of law. The town authority who wants to enact this law knows that the action of proposing the law is largely symbolic. The National Rifle Association loves this kind of controversy.

Where is it stated in the Federal constitution that Americans must own guns? This wacky idea is based on the silly reasoning that if everyone had a gun, then no one would have an advantage over anyone else.

 Oh yeah? I'll get a bigger gun than yours, or a faster gun.  No, I'll get two guns and you'll have only one.  Gracias, National Rifle Association.

This kind of thinking is not only nonsense, it's disrespectful: it's disrespectful to all those who have lost loved ones in recent shootings. Making political gain over the dead bodies of little children is shameful. Instead of vowing that each of us will take steps to conserve our country against random shootings and massacres, we allow public forums for gun promotors like those in Maine.

Because we live in a country where I have the right to free speech I can say what I've just said.
I can also say that the National Rifle Association which once led the nation in the promotion of sensible use of firearms has been hijacked by a lunatic fringe of gun-toters who seem to care very little about the toll their brand of Americanism has taken on this country.

I have no problem with ownership of rifles and shotguns.  Shoot canons off  in target practice fo rthe  fun of it, if you want to. But, you have no right to tell me that I must own any kind of gun.

I'm as American as you are and I don't want firearms in my house, or in my car.  I don't want to sit in a restaurant and see your handgun at your side or stand at the check-out counter at Walmart with your rifle in my face. I have the right to peaceful assembly, and that means I should not have to face your firearms. Their presence is a threat to me.

I want the second amendment defended. The right to bear arms is secured in our Bill of Rights.
However, what we need is a Bill of Responsibilites. That's what our legislators should be working on.
I want to see restrictions placed on how gun owners can own and use guns so that my right, and my fellow citizens' right to "life, liberty, andthe pursuit of happiness" is not infringed.

I will never own a handgun.

Jesse Jackson, Sr attends Hugo Chavez's Funeral.

Rev. Jesse Jackson, Sr. spoke at the funeral of Hugo Chavez, yesterday, and praised him for his efforts to lift up the poor. Speaking in church at Hugo Chavez' funeral, he said, "We've lost a lot. But we have much left: a stable government, an orderly transition and the possibiity that the presidents of our nations will soon meet and find common ground."

The Spanish translator eliminated Jackson's reference to "presidents of our nations" and stumbled, saying in Spanish something like "One cannot permit this nation to continue.. and find common ground."

I know this translation makes no sense but the translator seemed to gag on the Rev's hope for a
dialogue between our countries. The actual intent of Jackson's words was not heard by the people of Venezuela. Jackon's words are distorted with no reference any longer to his hope for peace between our countries.

The reaction by some Americans to Jackson's presence at Chavez's funeral has been volatile and vicious. Full of racism and malice, lurkers have left nasty comments on news sites about Jackson's evil motives.

I suppose he is self-centered, inflated in his own estimation of himself.  I suppose he has used his influence to augment his power. His pockets are likely filled with tips and speaking fees. But read what he says and watch how he walks. He's a Christian pacifist and a gifted leader. He puts himself in danger every time he steps out to make efforts for peace.

I don't often agree with Jesse Jackson, Sr but he sticks his neck out for peace when he knows there are lunatics out there who hate his guts, justifying their venom as being American venom. As Americans they sure don't show any knowledge of the Bill of Rights.  Freedom of speech, freedom of religion, the right of assembly are Jackson's rights, too.

Here They Come, Spinning into the Turn: The Race for Pope.

 Monday night the cardinals will be inside the Vatican, snuggled in their beds in Casa
Santa Marta, praying, I hope. They can't carry in their cell-phones or computers.  No, newspapers, either. What they must do is listen to the Holy Spirit and read their own souls.

The conclave begins on Tuesday.

Several of them, the papabili (the front-runners) will be having an anxious night. "Will it be me, Lord?"  It's likely that one of the frontrunners will be elected pope by Wednesday.

Then, again, maybe not.

If the cardinals spread most their votes among five or six papabili but not one of them is acceptable to two-thirds of the voting body, then one of the dark horses will come trotting up: a third world cardinal, possibly. Or, it could be someone who seemed to come out of nowhere and garner interest among the electors.Then, the conclave could stretch out for a week or more before a new pope is selected.

At the last conclave, Joseph Ratzinger was the front-runner from the get-go. It wasn't a surprise to hear that he had been elected pope, at least it wasn't for me. This time, there doesn't seem to be a wonder-horse- --lots of thoroughbreds, but not a celebrated, tried and true winner. I think the field is wide-open.

This is good for the Church because then the cardinals will widen their perspectives: the Holy Father doesn't have to be european.  He doesn't have to be white.  He doesn't have to be really old, just seasoned and mature.  He does have to be pastoral, a competent administrator and a pope to lead us into an age of new evangelization.

Monday night, behind the walls of Vatican City, there may be one cardinal who is sleeping well, dreaming peaceful dreams and not aware that the Holy Spirit will fire-up the souls of his brother cardinals to choose him to lead the Church into a new age.

Here they come, spinning into the turn!



 

Cardinal O'Malley for pope!

Cardinal O'Malley! Please, Lord.

The cardinals are setting aside time for prayer together for guidance in selecting a new leader for the Roman Catholc Church.  They've asked us to do the same.  So, I mentioned this request at Mass this morning. After Mass a lady of a certain age came up to me effusive in her pride in being a Catholic these days. "St. Peter is joyful in heaven, Father, because the whole world is waiting to see who the new pope will be. Then she said something like this: "Peter was tortured and crucified and now he's up there smiling and giving the Lord the elbow while saying 'Hey, Lord, look at the world-wide interest in who the pope is going to be. I think we're finally winning!'"

There certainly is wide interest in this selection process. The cardinals are watching and listening to each other during these days of formal meetings before they enter the conclave and the world is watching the cardinals.  Vatican News Service reported yesterday that over 5000 reporters have been issued credentials. So, five thousand investigators, feature writers, journalists and gossip columnists are gathering around the Catholic family as we watch and pray for a new leader.  All these reporters want insider stuff, scoops.

The cardinals are surprisingly open during their interviews. Cardinal George, for example,  has been describing a beauty-pageant, talent show process: One man is suggested and evaluated for good features, e.g., languages spoken, administrative ability, history of management of sexual abuse cases, commitment to the New Evangelization, perhaps, even, holiness. Then, Cardinal George reminds us that inevitably there is a pause while that candidate's star is clouded by negatives: He's too old; too young; too American; non European (black); not enough gravitas.

I keep changing my opinion but I now favor the chances of Cardinal Sean O'Malley from Boston. He's smart, not self-serving and has handled Boston's terrible sex abuse scandal with firmness and compassion.

I like him because as a Capuchin monk, he wears sandals and has a beard. Maybe, even to the cardinals he looks like a pope. When he's asked about his chances, he replies simply that he has a return ticket to Boston that he intends to use.

Mostly, though  as he walks into the daily sessions in his sandals, he doesn't look like he's trying to fill Benedict XVI's shoes, the red ones.


 

Sede Vacante. The Cardinals Gather in Rome.

Sede vacante, the chair is vacant. Benedict XVI has left the building, permanently.

I am going to miss the thoughtful talks and sermons of Benedict XVI. Each day I checked out the VNS, the Vatican News Service, just to see what interesting take he would have on a gospel passage.

Recently, he has been talking about his retirement from the vantage point of service to the Church. He shared his soul with us, I think, when he talked about pouring out his life in papal ministry. There was much he had to do and little time to do the things that he wanted to do like read, reflect and write.

He has not complained.  He just can't do it anymore.  The Church needs someone stronger these days, he reminds us.

The next pope will have to face the challenges of curial reform, the smoldering embers  of sexual abuse in the Church, and the challenges of how to give impetus to the New Evangelization.  The Church is growing rapidly in Africa and other areas of the Far East. The old european church is
fading fast and areas of the new world are right behind.  Even Brazil which has the greatest number of Catholics of any country in the world is watching the growth of protestant churches.

I am sure concerns like these are in the hearts of most of the cardinals who are now preparing to enter the conclave. Meanwhile, we watch and pray that the Holy Spirit will descend upon the Church "...and with Ah! bright wings!" (  Gerard Manley Hopkins)

Trappists, Cats and Retreats

A retreat with Trappist Monks Brings Peace to a Restless Heart

 Recently, I spent four days with Trappist Monks on retreat in Iowa. I was in full retreat from the noise of my life including ringing cell phones, blaring ambulances, and the babble of TVs, radios, and office small talk. I needed the silence of the monastery.

Trappist monks live in daily retreat from the distractions of the technological rat-race. Wrapped in rough-cut robes and wearing sandals, the members of the Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance have come to be known as the "Trappists," a name taken from the ancient abbey of La Grande Trappe, whose spiritual descendants are scattered throughout the world in monasteries like this one.

I am accepted as a guest at this Trappist monastery. The monks' daily rhythm of prayer and work will become my guide to enter into a deeper spirit of prayer. There will be three meals a day which I may take in silence or in subdued conversation with others on retreat. The food is simple fare: home-made bread, hearty soups, cooked vegetables and a modest amount of meat.

It happens to be Winter here in Iowa. The cold bites, especially in the morning when I like to take a walk on the monastery grounds. There, skeletons of trees sway in a brisk wind along the dirt path that is hard and icy in spots. Quiet rules here in the back fallow fields of Winter Iowa.

My morning walk is a metaphor for my retreat journey, and for my life's journey. It seems I'm always on the way somewhere.

The chapel looks cold when I walk in. The altar of sacrifice is way back near the far wall. It's a simple table. The dark wooden stalls of the Trappist monks face one another across the nave, lined up for choral recitation of the Divine Office, the monks' prayers for the world prayed at specific times during the day. Once the monks begin to sing, somehow the whole place warms up. It feels great and heart-warming to join morning song and evensong with the chanting monks.

Someone told me recently that he likes cats as pets because they are peaceful. To watch them undulate through their lives effortlessly in your home can bring healing to a harried soul. However, I don't like cats much. I do like monks, though. They bring me peace.

My retreat with the Trappists is over, but I'll be back again next season. Meanwhile I've taken the monks and the monastery home with me, here in the midst of the noise of my life.

There's a stillness in me for a while, a place within me where I want to live. The monks sing and bow there and wake to pray in the night.