Today I took part in the most useless of activities. 

I went to the sacrament of confession. 

I took time out of my schedule when many would say I could have been doing something else.  I was not being productive as the world would define it – nothing was made, no deal was struck, no contract was signed, no money exchanged hands.  I left with nothing more physically than I originally had going in.  The interaction took place in a quiet room set aside from the rush and purpose of the world.  I did not even have to pay as one would for a session with a therapist – so I cannot even point to that as a measurement of value.  It was free.

The church was quiet.  Other people had also come in and were praying the rosary in the front of the church.  I knelt in a back pew and silently prayed.  The church was the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist in Charleston, S.C.  I was in the city for a few days of vacation and stopped at the church before making the drive back home.  The sacrament (I came to find out) was being offered.  The Cathedral is old and beautiful – made even more so by the Christmas trees flanking the Nativity scene up front and the Christmas poinsettias set around the altar.  The old floor boards creaked as people walked by. 

In a world dominated by the dual tyrannies of utilitarianism – assigning value solely in terms of productivity and what one can “show” for ones efforts – and a materialism which relentlessly seeks to bracket off any notion of the transcendent actually engaged with and infusing creation, what I did today makes no sense whatsoever.  Baptism, confirmation, marriage, even ordination can be explained off by these viewpoints as important rites of passage needed for the proper functioning of a civic religion.  Even the Mass can be justified for the sake of fellowship and the value of community it instills.  But confession?  On a weekday?  Confession is the most useless of activities.  

Yet that is what I did and I am better for it.  To one without faith or even one dominated by the tyrannies of our day I cannot explain it nor will I seek to.  What I know is that grace was present, forgiveness was given and hope was born once again in my soul.  

For my penance the priest reminded me that it is still the Christmas season and I should offer a prayer of gratitude. 

Sitting once again in a back pew I thumbed to the end of the missal and found a prayer for faith, hope and love.  The section on hope struck me.  “Remind us of the truth of who we are: sinners, yet also beloved sons and daughters of God … give me the gift of hope.”

Hope is born through this truth and in this most useless of activities.     

St. Theresa Catholic Church in Madalla, Nigeria

News has come out of Nigeria that there have been orchestrated explosions at Christian churches throughout the country on Christmas day.  At least thirty-nine persons have been killed.  Boko Haram, a Muslim militant group has taken credit for the bombings.  The group wants to establish Shariah law throughout the country. 

December 26th is the Feast of St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr.  Today’s senseless act of violence reminds us that the age of the martyrs is not over.  These men and women died in witness to their faith – celebrating the birth of the Prince of Peace. 

As we face this violence the temptation to respond in kind is strong but we look to the witness of St. Stephen to remind us that the weapons we fight with are not of this world and are based in the love and mercy of God.  It is the love which has overcome all the sad violence and divisions of this world. 

I pray for our brothers and sisters in Nigeria – for those who lost their lives in the simple act of attending Christmas Mass and for those who mourn the loss of their loved ones.

Here is the second reading from the Office of Readings for the Feast of St. Stephen.  I believe that the words carry great weight at this time. 

The Catholic Center is quiet… 

Bailey and Maxine are dozing at my feet, probably dreaming of their stockings stuffed with chew toys and snacks.

The midnight Mass was beautiful. 

It is a chilly and crisp morning outside and in the quiet of the Christmas morning the gift of the Christ child (God become man that we might have life) warms the heart and radiates a serene and eternal peace. 

Merry Christmas everyone!

Are we getting what Pope Benedict is trying to tell us?  And if not, why?

I must say that I find some people’s negative perception of Pope Benedict to be quite perplexing.  I will admit that he is not as photogenic as Bl. John Paul II nor does he seem to possess the natural media savvy that the previous pontiff did.  But why the negative perception?  Is it all due to these types of superficial impressions?  Some of it is, I believe.  Often, people are quite satisfied to remain on the level of the superficial and not deviate from what they have been fed.

But it is also due, I believe, to the fact that Pope Benedict himself is content to remain his own man who realizes that the Pope does not have to be a pop star nor a political power-broker to affect change in the world and to fulfill the unique witness that is his as the Bishop of Rome.  Pope Benedict is happy not to play by contemporary society’s presumptions and biases and frankly, I think that this both perplexes and ticks a lot of people off at the same time (which is quite a feat and also amusing to watch!).

I think a case in point is to note where Pope Benedict is choosing to travel to during his pontificate.  Yes, he has been to the “big” countries (the U.S., England, France, etc.) but he is certainly not limited to this itinerary.  His last trip was to the small African country of Benin.  Who goes to Benin?  Well, apparently the pope does.  It was just announced that he intends to visit Mexico and Cuba this coming year (bypassing the U.S. in the process).

Benedict is choosing not to be limited by western, “First World”, modern notions of power, prestige and how “real change” in the world is affected.  Again, he is content to live his papacy as he so determines is best – primarily as a bishop, priest, teacher and (fundamentally) a disciple of Christ.

A recent article by Elizabeth Scalia in “First Things” has helped me put words on this.  Below is the link.  Check it out.  It is worth the read. 

All this also provides, I believe, a worthy Advent and Christmas reflection.  As asked above: “Who goes to Benin?  Apparently the pope does.” so also it is good to ask: “Who would go to the small, unknown and very unremarkable town of Bethlehem to be born in order to save the world?  Apparently God would.”

Link: “Benedict’s Christocentrism”

The play, “To Kill a Mockingbird” is a story about prejudice and the courage to do what is right.  In the play, Atticus Finch – a lawyer, agrees to defend a young black man (Tom Robinson) when he is unjustly accused of a crime he did not commit.  Racial bigotry is stirred up and Atticus and his family are persecuted for seeking justice for the young man.  Despite the persecution Atticus does fight for justice for Tom but by the end of the trial bigotry and the need to scapegoat win out and the young man is condemned for a crime he did not commit.  After this verdict as Atticus leaves the courtroom and passes his two children, a black minister who is aware of all the factors at play tells the girl and boy to stand because their father is passing, “a good and just man.”

Is not Atticus, in many ways, a figure of John the Baptist?  Atticus can be seen as a man proclaiming the truth even in the face of persecution, misunderstanding and ridicule.  Like John the Baptist, he proclaimed and held to the light even in the very midst of darkness.  Both men faced the same temptations – the temptation to remain quiet, to keep ones head down, to not make waves.  Both also faced the temptation to proclaim oneself.

Throughout the play, Atticus is a soft spoken, humble man even as others talk about all his achievements and abilities.  In his final speech in the courtroom Atticus does not proclaim his own skill as a lawyer nor his gift of rhetoric; rather, he proclaims and points to truth and justice for Tom Robinson.  It was a proclamation to those gathered in the courtroom just as pointed as the cry of the Baptist in the wilderness.

John the Baptist also faced this temptation to proclaim self.  The people were streaming toward John from all over the countryside, there was a deep yearning for the messiah – John knew this and he could have seized all that energy and power!  But he didn’t.  “I am not the Christ,” said John.  “I am the voice of one crying in the desert, make straight the way of the Lord … I am not worthy to untie his sandals.”

John the Baptist was able to do two things extremely well: he was able to look away from himself and he was able to look toward God.  In this he was able to recognize the truth of who he was – a man in need of a savior – and therefore he was able to recognize the true savior when he came (in contrast to the Pharisees).  “I baptize with water; but there is one among you whom you do not recognize, the one who is coming after me, who sandal strap I am not worthy to untie.” (John 1:27)

What John the Baptist and the figure of Atticus proclaim to us is that truth and justice do not lie inherently within ourselves as if they were our own possessions.  They are not part of our constitutional makeup that we can either summon or dispose of at will.  Rather, truth and justice are acquired by us only insofar as we place ourselves in relation to truth and justice itself – whom we proclaim to have a name and a face: Jesus.

As we place ourselves in relation to Christ, we both learn to see anew with eyes enlightened by faith (judging rightly) and our own dignity is found.  The words spoken by the black preacher to the children of Atticus might then be applied to any one of us, “Stand, your father (mother) is passing, a good and just man (woman).”  Whether victorious or not in the realm of worldly success and opinion; could there be any higher compliment?

Come, Lord Jesus and do not delay and, in all things, may we testify to the light!          

The theological virtue of faith is about seeing.

This coming Sunday (the third Sunday of Advent) we are presented with the figure of John the Baptist in the Gospel reading. John the Baptist in many ways epitomizes the virtue of faith.

Here is the reading for this Sunday:

A man named John was sent from God.
He came for testimony, to testify to the light,
so that all might believe through him.
He was not the light,
but came to testify to the light.

And this is the testimony of John.
When the Jews from Jerusalem sent priests
and Levites to him
to ask him, “Who are you?”
He admitted and did not deny it,
but admitted, “I am not the Christ.”
So they asked him,
“What are you then? Are you Elijah?”
And he said, “I am not.”
“Are you the Prophet?”
He answered, “No.”
So they said to him,
“Who are you, so we can give an answer to those who sent us?
What do you have to say for yourself?”

He said:
“I am the voice of one crying out in the desert,
‘make straight the way of the Lord,'”
as Isaiah the prophet said.”
Some Pharisees were also sent.
They asked him,
“Why then do you baptize
if you are not the Christ or Elijah or the Prophet?”
John answered them,
“I baptize with water;
but there is one among you whom you do not recognize,
the one who is coming after me,
whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie.”

This happened in Bethany across the Jordan,
where John was baptizing. (John 1:6-8, 19-28)

John the Baptist does two things quite well: he looks away from himself and he looks toward the coming of the Messiah. Both are exercises of the virtue of faith and both are about learning to see correctly.

Throughout his preaching John does not proclaim himself. Again and again, he states that he is not the Messiah. At best John says he is, “the voice of one crying out in the desert…” John knew the tenor of his times. He knew the deep yearning of the people. He, in fact, was witnessing it first-hand as the whole country-side was streaming toward him in order to be baptized. John of all people at that time could have seized all of that energy and power! But he didn’t. John recognized the truth of himself. We find this expressed in his admission regarding the one coming after him whose, “… sandal strap I am not worthy to untie.” This recognition was an act of faith and it enlightened his eyes in order to truly see.

Faith is the theological virtue by which we believe in God and believe all that he has said and revealed to us, and that Holy Church proposes for our belief, because he is truth itself. By faith “man freely commits his entire self to God.” For this reason the believer seeks to know and do God’s will. “The righteous shall live by faith.” Living faith “work(s) through charity.” (Rom. 1:17, Gal. 5:6) (CCC #1814)

John’s self admission demonstrates that he was someone who freely committed “his entire self to God.” Faith begins where the heart is broken. John possessed the courage and honesty required to recognize his own need and by so doing was then able to fully commit his entire self to God.

Because John recognized his own need he was then able to recognize the Messiah when at last he came. John always points toward Christ.

“I baptize with water;
but there is one among you whom you do not recognize,
the one who is coming after me,
whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie.” (John 1:27)

The gift of faith remains in one who has not sinned against it. But “faith apart from works is dead”: when it is deprived of hope and love, faith does not fully unite the believer to Christ and does not make him a living member of his Body.


The disciple of Christ must not only keep the faith and live on it, but also profess it, confidently bear witness to it, and spread it: “All however must be prepared to confess Christ before men and to follow him along the way of the Cross, amidst the persecutions which the Church never lacks.” Service of and witness to the faith are necessary for salvation: “So every one who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven; but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven.” (Mt. 10:32-33) (CCC #1815-1816)

Faith is exercised when Christ is recognized and proclaimed. Blessed Teresa of Calcutta exercised the virtue of faith when she recognized the face of Christ in the dying poor. She “saw” Christ in their faces.

The theological virtue of faith is neither naïve hope nor illusion but true seeing enlightened by honesty and courage.

Recently I have come across two approaches to sexuality and current sexual norms that swim against the current.  The first is a reflection by a gay man and the second is a video of a young man rapping about virtue, dignity and responsibility.  Both have some powerful and thought-provoking insights worthy of reflecting upon. 

(The reflection is taken from the blog “Young and Catholic” by Mary and “Steve Gershom: Catholic, Gay and Feeling Fine, Thanks”) 

Catholic and Gay

At the end of the Second Letter of Peter (which we hear from this Sunday) we have these words: “Therefore, beloved, since you await these things, be eager to be found without spot or blemish before him, at peace.”  “Peace” – it is at the deepest yearning of the human heart and whether one has a purely secular approach to the holidays or a religious one; the yearning for peace in our world and even in our own lives seems to unite all.  One of the titles of Christ which we proclaim throughout this Advent and Christmas season is “Prince of Peace.”

Worthy of note is the fact that this call to peace found within the Second Letter of Peter is placed within the upheaval of the end of creation, “…the heavens will pass away with a mighty roar and the elements will be destroyed by fire … Therefore, beloved … be … at peace.”  This sounds like the most extreme of contradictions.  How can one be at peace when all is going up in smoke?  In fact though there is a subtle lesson to be found here.  Even within the upheaval at the end time and therefore within the upheavals of the present moment of our world and of our lives it is possible to find peace and to remain within peace.

How?

We are given these words, “…since you await these things, be eager to be found without spot or blemish before him …”  In his Exposition on Psalm 85, St. Augustine offers some thoughts on the common Advent refrain: “Truth has sprung up from the earth, and righteousness has looked down from heaven.”  Augustine reflects that in sin we are the “earth.”  The wages of sin is death and he points us back to the passage from Genesis: “Earth you are, and back to earth you shall go.” (Gen. 3:19)  How might truth spring from the earth?

“Confess your sins, and truth will spring up from you.  If you claim to be just when you are unjust, how can truth spring up from you?  But if when you are unjust you admit to being unjust, ‘truth has sprung up from the earth.’”  At this the righteousness of God will look down from heaven and say, “Let us pardon this person, because he has not pardoned himself; let us overlook his sin because he has looked honestly at it himself.  He has turned back to punish his own sin, so I will turn to him to set him free from it.”

It is not coincidence that at the beginning of the Eucharistic liturgy we have the Penitential Rite nor that the Church continually invites us to the great gift which is the sacrament of reconciliation.  The words of the first option of the Penitential Rite found in the new Roman Missal are quite striking:

“I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault; therefore I ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin, all the Angels and Saints, and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God.”

We say these words not because we hate ourselves and deem ourselves incapable of being loved.  In fact we know that the exact opposite is the case – we have been loved infinitely.  We say these words and we go to the sacrament of reconciliation in order that truth might spring from the earth and righteousness look down from heaven. 

Even within the upheavals of life peace is possible. 

“Therefore, beloved, since you await these things be eager to be found without spot or blemish before him, at peace.”