A couple of weeks ago I posted an offer to my readers, to have their intentions remembered at one of my daily masses. That post originally read:
Because I don’t have a parish of my own, I also don’t have a regular way of being asked to say mass for particular intentions. While this is a bit of lemon, perhaps there is a way to turn it into lemonade, for the sake of my blog readers.
If you know of someone needing prayers, whether living or dead, feel free to send me an email and I’ll remember that person in one of my daily masses. If the intention is for someone deceased, a few details about the person would be appreciated, to help me formulate the intention in my mind. If the intention is for someone living, a few details on what exactly we are asking for that person would also be helpful. While the person’s name would normally be mentioned at mass, I will keep all such additional information confidential.
I want to be absolutely clear on something: I AM NOT ASKING FOR MONEY. While there is a tradition of making an offering when asking a priest to say mass for a particular intention, this is not the case here. This is my offering for my blog readers, and I am happy to do it.
Unfortunately, spammers at my mass form, so I had to withdraw the offer (or at least, the web form that made it easy to do).
But now it’s back, and (hopefully) better than ever! I designed my own form to help with the process, so now (once again) you can…
As well, I’ve placed a small notice at the top of the blog, above the name banner, so that even as this post disappears in time the link will remain, easy to find.
I was invited to dinner at the home of one of the parish families of St. Aloysius parish in the east end of Montreal. Dinner was delicious, and the company delightful. As a parting gift, I received this picture:
At one point we started playing various albums and singing along to Billy Joel, Queen, the BareNaked Ladies, and Johnny Cash. Turns out even little Ingrid could sing along to Fulsom Prison Blues, Walk the Line, and other hits! It was a lot of fun.
Part of the Catholic tradition includes “having a mass said” for a particular intention. I am very familiar with this practice because, as a priest, I’m the one “saying” the mass in question! I have become increasingly aware, though, that many Catholics are not familiar with this practice, and those that are often don’t really understand it. This article is meant to help clear up any confusion and, hopefully, help us to appreciate how the Eucharist is a gift to all of humanity.
Before we get started, though, a point regarding terminology. The proper name for the sacrament we are discussing is the Eucharist. In Roman Catholic terms, we often refer to the ceremony of the Eucharist as the “mass”. This word comes from the Latin word “missa”, which is found in the closing words of the Latin version of the ritual, where the minister declares “Ite, missa est” (Go, you are dismissed). The term “mass”, therefore, is specific to the Roman (Latin) tradition: the Byzantine tradition (such as the Greek Orthodox, or the Melkite Catholics) refer to the Eucharist as the Divine Liturgy, not the “mass”. No matter what we call in, though, the key thing to remember is that we are fundamentally referring to the sacrament of the Eucharist.
The starting point: the Last Supper
To understand the Eucharist (and, in particular, the tradition of mass intentions) we need to go back to the beginning. The Eucharist was instituted at the Last Supper. During that supper, Jesus took bread and declared that it was his body, he took wine and declared that it was his blood. He also commanded his disciples to “do this in memory” of him. Each mass is our way of remaining faithful to that commandment.
The mass is much more than a simple ceremony of remembering, however. When Jesus spoke of the bread, he declared that it was his body, “given up” for us. When he spoke of his blood, he declared it would be shed for us as the blood of a new and everlasting covenant. These are clear references to what would happen to him within the next 24 hours, i.e. his death on the cross. The Eucharist therefore cannot be understood apart from the sacrifice of Jesus on that cross.
That Jesus’ death was a sacrifice is clearly understood from the words of the Bible. The letter to the Hebrews devotes long passages to how the offering of the blood of Jesus is the definitive sacrifice that puts and end to all others, for example. Interestingly, this letter also reflects on how Jesus was/is a new kind of priest, in the order of the ancient priest Melchisedek, who lived during the time of Abraham. When Abraham met Melchisedek after winning an important battle, this “priest of God most high” offered a sacrifice of thanksgiving, using bread and wine. It is no accident, therefore, that Jesus associated these particular elements with his own death, and this association certainly brings out the sacrificial nature of his death even more clearly.
The mass is a sacrifice
Today, when we celebrate the Eucharist, we are therefore celebrating a sacrifice. It is not a repeat of the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, as though Jesus had to be sacrificed over and over again. It is not a substitute for that sacrifice, either. A mass, believe it or not, *is* the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, brought forward in time to the present.
How is this possible? To understand this, we need to remember that the Last Supper was not just any supper: it was a Passover meal, celebrated as part of the Jewish tradition. The Passover was itself a memorial of the events surrounding the persecution of the people in Egypt and, in particular, their deliverance by God. According to Jewish theology, however, when the Passover was celebrated it was not simply that the people turned their attention to the past, but that those events of the past were being brought forward in time to those eating the meal. One could say that, by eating the Passover, later Jews were in effect walking through the Red Sea with their ancestors in a mystical way.
Jesus instituted the Eucharist within a meal that was a memorial. He also explicitly said that the use of bread and wine would be forever done as a memorial — in this case, of the sacrifice of his body and blood. At the mass, the Holy Spirit makes the bread and wine into the actual Body and Blood of Christ. This effectively opens up a “time warp” in which the sacrifice of Jesus is mystically brought forward to be present to us. When we are present to a celebration of the Eucharist, we are not merely turning our attention to the past: we are actually bringing forward into the present the most pivotal moment of human history.
The power of the sacrifice
The New Testament is very clear that the death of Jesus on the cross was not a defeat but a moment of power. The Gospel of John mentions how, at his death, he “gave up his spirit”: this refers to his soul leaving his body, of course, but has also traditionally been seen as the giving of the Holy Spirit to the world. In other words, the events of Pentecost, when the Church was born, were prepared by this death on the cross. Other narratives of Jesus’ passion describe an earthquake, a darkening of the sky, and tearing of the veil of the Temple, and even the rising of some of the dead. Some Biblical scholars believe that these events did not actually happen, but are described as part of a Biblical literary form. Even if that were true, however, it does not change the fact that the authors of those passages definitely saw the death of Jesus on the cross as a pivotal moment of sacrifice where divine power was at work.
Who was meant to benefit from this sacrifice? All of us. “Jesus died for us” as the saying goes. That being said, there is a small problem with a claim like this: we weren’t there when the sacrifice was offered. We didn’t even exist. How can the sacrifice therefore have been meant for us? How is the power of that sacrifice made real for us in (now) the 21st century? The answer is found in the concept of “memorial” described above. Jesus did not just die on the cross; he also gave us a mechanism (the Eucharist) by means of which that sacrifice could be sacramentally brought forward in time. Thanks to this, the fruits of that sacrifice — that divine power, in other words — becomes immediately relevant for those of us (like you and me) who have come upon the scene centuries later.
The heart of the mass: the Eucharistic prayer
We see all this movement of grace in the Eucharistic prayer, which is really the heart of every mass. There are many forms of Eucharistic prayer, but for the purpose of example we can use the second prayer found in the Roman usage. It begins with these words:
Lord, you are holy indeed, the fountain of all holiness. Let your Spirit come upon these gifts to make them holy, so that they may become for us the body and blood of our Lord, Jesus Christ.
Note the invocation of the Holy Spirit, whose presence is absolutely necessary to open up the “time warp” and make the mass more than just a symbolic gesture.
Before he was given up to death, a death he freely accepted, he took bread and gave you thanks, He broke the bread, gave it to his disciples, and said:
Take this, all of you, and eat it; this is my body which will be given up for you.
When the supper was ended, he took the cup. Again he gave you thanks and praise, gave the cup to his disciples, and said:
Take this, all of you, and drink from it; this is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me.
These are the critical “words of institution” that recall the Last Supper itself. Through them the bread and wine, upon which the Holy Spirit has already been invoked, are changed into the Body and Blood of Christ. The words themselves make clear the association of the Body and Blood with the cross, as well as the fact that this sacrifice is being associated with a memorial (in the Jewish sense of the term).
In memory of his death and resurrection, we offer you, Father, this life-giving bread, this saving cup. We thank you for counting us worthy to stand in your presence and serve you.
After the words of institution comes a simple prayer of offering. Any time when an animal was sacrificed in a religious ritual, there was a prayer said to offer the sacrifice to God. When Jesus’ was upon the cross, he took care of this himself (this is why we say Jesus was “both priest and victim” in that situation). However, while in the mass his body and blood are just as present, his actual voice is not heard making the offering as well. The prayer of offering, therefore, is made by the priest acting in the person of Christ. Indeed, the whole Eucharistic prayer is offered in a priestly way, which is why almost all of it is reserved to the priest.
What is of particular interest for our subject in this article is what comes next, however. Recall that the sacrifice of Christ unleashed divine power into the world. The mass brings this sacrifice forward into the world, and the next prayers (called “intercessions”) are meant to apply the fuits of that sacrifice for particular intentions.
May all of us who share in the body and blood of Christ be brought together in unity by the Holy Spirit.
Lord, remember your Church throughout the world; make us grow in love, together with N. our Pope, N. our bishop, and all the clergy.
Remember our brothers and sisters who have gone to their rest in the hope of rising again; bring them and all the departed into the light of your presence.
Have mercy on us all; make us worthy to share eternal life with Mary, the virgin Mother of God, with the apostles, and with all the saints who have done your will throughout the ages. May we praise you in union with them, and give you glory through your Son, Jesus Christ.
These are powerful prayers! We are asking for the divine power of the Eucharstic sacrifice to accomplish a number of things, such as:
The bringing together in unity all who share the body and blood of Christ.
The growth in love of the Church.
The bringing into heaven all those who have died in the hope of rising.
The “making worthy” (justification and sanctification) of God’s people.
This, in short, is what the mass does: it brings forward in time the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, and it asks that the fruits of that sacrifice be applied according to a certain set of intentions.
What about specific intentions?
While each Eucharistic prayer does mention of certain intentions (not all of which are common to every Eucharistic prayer), these do tend be rather general. There is no mention, for example, of a request that the fruits of the sacrifice of Christ be applied to helping someone find a job, pass an exam, recover from surgery, or whatever. At the same time, these can be perfectly worthy requests. Where do they fit?
First of all, the Eucharistic prayers generally contain an optional addition to the intercessory prayers to recall specific individuals who have died. The above-mentioned Eucharistic prayer II, for example, allows for the priest to insert this passage:
Remember N., whom you have called from this life. In baptism he (she) died with Christ: may he (she) also share his resurrection.
The first Eucharistic prayer, also called the Roman Canon, even allows for the mentioning of multiple names:
Remember, Lord, those who have died and have gone before us marked with the sign of faith, especially those for whom we now pray, N. and N. May these, and all who sleep in Christ, find in your presence light, happiness and peace.
The Roman Canon is unique among the Eucharistic prayers in that is also allows for a commemoration of living members of the Church:
Remember, Lord, your people, especially those for whom we now pray, N. and N.
The pastoral value of mentioning a specific intention in this way should not be underestimated. At the same time, the fruits of the Eucharist are not just limited to those things mentioned specifically in the Eucharistic prayer. The opening prayer of the Eucharist has traditionally been called a “collect”, because at that time the priest is said to be “collecting” all the prayer intentions of those present at that mass. This is why some collects themselves have a special focus. The collect for a funeral mass, for example, expresses a specially-articulate particular intention for the deceased person. There are “special focus collects” for all kinds of situations: for the blessing of work, for the productivity of the land, for peace (including with special use in times of war or civil disturbance), in times of natural disaster, for various needs of the Church, and so on.
There is therefore a special balance found within the structure of the mass. On the one hand, we ask God to apply the fruits of the sacrifice of Jesus to all sorts of situations according to broad categories; on the other hand, we can also include specific mentions of particular intentions close to our hearts.
Mass donations and other ticklish questions
At this point we must discuss an issue which makes many people uncomfortable: the making of an offering for the sake of a particular intention. As just mentioned, it is possible for a particular mass to have included among its intentions some sort of particular intention. The Christian faithful often request this of priests — “Father, will you please remember so-and-so at your mass today” is something we often hear. In theory there is no problem with this: to repeat an example we have already seen, the structure of the Roman Canon itself allows for the inclusion of multiple names in an explicit way.
Where this gets ticklish, however, is the fact that a small donation is often associated with the intention request. At its root, this donation is meant to help provide for the expenses related to the celebration of the mass. After all, somebody has to pay for the bread and wine used at that mass. It goes beyond this, however. After all, the mass also requires books, candles, and altar linens, the expense of which can be spread over several masses. And what about the church building the mass is being said in? Buildings are pretty darned expensive, after all. The donation for a mass is meant to help cover the very real expense of providing not just that particular mass, but the whole infrastructure related to a worthy celebration of the Eucharist. As such, asking for a donation is not unjust: after all, if you want a special intention remembered at a mass, there needs to be a mass in the first place. The donation is simply a way to help make that happen.
With this comes a special problem, however: that of expense. If the total cost of the “mass infrastructure” was simply distributed over the amount of actual masses said, the individual “cost” of a mass would be so high that the very poor would never be able to have a mass said with a particular intention. Having a mass for a particular intention could easily be turned into a badge of social status — a perversion of its inner meaning if there ever was one. To help solve this problem, church communities usually raise the money they need for their liturgical life in other ways, such as through parish dues or by means of the collection on Sunday. I should note that even this doesn’t solve the problem entirely, because it tends to mean that those who don’t regularly go to Sunday mass but who want particular services like a baptism, wedding or funeral are effectively being subsidized by those who do practice more regularly: it isn’t an entirely just situation either, but it is certainly better than having a division based on social class.
Another special problem exists, one which is even more ticklish. You see, one of the expenses related to the celebration of the mass is the expense of having a priest. Priests have to eat. They need clothing and a roof over their head. They need to be trained, and ideally they stay up to date in that training. The mass offering, therefore, is also meant to help the priest to live. As you can imagine, though, this system can easily be abused. For example, how much should a particular priest be allowed to “charge” for a mass? If more than one intention is to be included in a particular celebration, does the “rate” for each intention stay the same (and this open the door to the temptation of having LOTS of paid intentions per mass)? What of the risk that a priest will turn into a “mass robot”, saying LOTS of masses in the day just for the sake of collecting more intention donations?
Unfortunately, all these abuses have happened. Indeed, they were part of the motivation for the Protestant Reformation. While Martin Luther loved the Eucharist, he renamed it to the “Lord’s Supper” and had this to say about the “mass”:
Since such countless and unspeakable abuses have arisen everywhere through the buying and selling of Masses, it would be prudent to do without the Mass for no other reason that to curb such abuses, even if it actually possessed some value in and of itself…The Mass is and can be nothing else than a human work, even a work of evil scoundrels…(Smalcald Articles, Part II, Article II)
The Catholic Church did not do away with the mass, of course, but most assuredly has tried to address the problem in a variety of ways.
First of all, all pastors are obliged to offer one mass per week for the intentions of the parishioners. The pastor does not receive anything for it: it is his gift to this people, who now know in turn that their intentions are rolled up into this one “super-intention”. The mass for this intention is to be celebrated at the principle Sunday mass of that community, so that as many people as possible may participate in it.
Next, the bishops of an ecclesiastical province are required to set a standard suggested amount for a mass offering. This amount is typically very low, such that it is often merely a symbolic reference to the support required to be able to celebrate the mass in the first place. For example, here in Montreal and its surrounding dioceses, the standard mass intention is $5. Even if a person contributes more, however, it is also our practice that the share of the mass donation that goes to the priest is capped at this $5. A person may choose to donate $500,000 to the parish for a particular mass intention, but the priest still only gets a maximum of $5.
To prevent the abuse of the multiplication of masses, canon law normally prevents a priest from saying more than one mass in a day. Still, there can be cases where pastoral necessity requires a priest to say two or even three masses, and in these situations canon law makes it clear that the priest may only benefit from one mass per day.
As well, to prevent the abuse of the multiplication, not of masses, but of paid intentions within a single mass, canon law normally requires that there not be more than one paid intention per mass. The Eucharist, after all, is supposed to be a way to access the power of the sacrifice of Christ. By restricting masses to one paid intention, it preserves the sense of responsibility for what is required to make the mass possible, while at the same time preventing the mass from turning into a form of fundraising.
Finally, canon law certainly permits the mass to be said even if there is no paid intention involved, and in certain cases this is even morally required. For example, if a person truly cannot meet the minimum threshold for the mass donation, it would be considered an abuse for the priest to refuse to say the mass for that person’s special intention. Simply put, the truly poor should never be excluded from the fountain of grace that is the Eucharist.
Putting forward a mass intention
I am hoping that readers of this article are at this point be wondering how their own particular intentions can become associated with the Eucharist. Of course, we are invited to pray to God at all times for the things we (and others) need, and this can (and should) be done outside of the immediate context of a mass. This being said, given that the Eucharist is the moment par excellence whereby the divine power is brought into our lives, it is also perfectly normal that we would want those inner prayer intentions to be associated with the celebration of the Eucharist in a special way. Indeed, it would be strange if a person wanted God to hear his or her petitions, but who at the same time refused to present those petitions within the Eucharist: it would be a real contradiction.
How can a person, therefore, have his or her intentions specially associated with the power of Jesus’ sacrifice as found in the Eucharist?
The simplest method is the most obvious: go to mass! Carry the intention in your heart as you journey to the church. Silently offer up that intention at the collect, in the moment of silence after the priest says “let us pray”. Even if no one has physically heard that intention or even knows it exists, it has already been placed upon the altar in a spiritual way. When you receive communion, thus completing your participation in the Eucharistic sacrifice, your intention becomes open to the fullness of the power the Eucharist represents.
What if you can’t go to mass yourself, or if for some reason you are restricted from receiving communion? Happily the Church is not a community of strangers, but of brothers and sisters who are called to regularly pray for each other. Nothing stops you from asking someone to offer the intention for you, thus making your intention theirs as well (and therefore also open to the grace that is “uncorked” at communion). Any Catholic in good standing can be an intercessor in this way, and it is a beautiful way to express the reality that every Christian is called to be part of the “priestly people” of God. People often make these sorts of particular requests of the priest himself. This can be for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that, assuming it is appropriate, the priest can announce these special intentions to the community, thus inviting others into this movement of prayer.
Indeed, a very simple and common way of having an intention associated with the Eucharist is to approach the actual parish itself. Most modern parishes have a system to receive the intentions of the people, and it is often not more complicated than calling up or visiting the parish office and making a request. The person making the request has the opportunity to make a donation (the reasons for which have already described), and often a small token (such as a mass card) is received as a concrete indicator that the intention has been received. Indeed, one major advantage of this approach is that a particular date can be reserved for that intention, thus allowing people to come and attend in a special way. For example, if a particular mass intention is for the repose of someone’s soul, perhaps members of the family or friends would want to attend — having a pre-set date allows for this spiritual opportunity to take place.
As a final point, I want to mention how important it is to pray every intention we carry in our heart. Asking others to carry our intentions to the Eucharist is definitely worthwhile, but we must avoid turning it into a way of “passing the buck” spiritually. If you can’t attend a mass to which a particular intention is being carried, it would be spiritually worthwhile to nevertheless take a special time of prayer so as to associate yourself with that offering, even if it is at a distance. If possible, you could request communion outside of mass to complete that offering — it does not matter for these purposes if *that* host was not consecrated at *that* mass where the intention was offered, as every consecrated host is just as much the Body of Christ as any other. Finally, I should point out that even if you aren’t able to get to mass yourself or find someone to carry that intention to mass for you, don’t forget that (as we have seen) every Eucharistic prayer mentions several “global” intentions into which your intention probably fits. Offering up our needs and petitions in a Eucharistic way is possible even outside of the context of a specific Eucharist, and indeed every time we pray we should place our needs before the Lord with a Eucharistic heart.
If you’ve read the homily preached by Cardinal Turcotte at the mass of ordination for Michael Leclerc, you already know we have just begun a special “year for priests” where the Pope is inviting us to reflect on the gift that is the priesthood for the Church and for humanity. I attended a meeting today to help prepare our own diocesan response to this opportunity, and I thought I’d share with my readers some of the resources already popping up on the Net.
And as well, Our Sunday Visitor has a friendly web page with practical ideas for ordinary folks to help enter into the spirit of this year. I especially like the suggestion of inviting the priest to dinner!
Know of any other resources? Feel free to leave a comment and let us know!
I left off describing my European pilgrimage last May about two weeks ago. I thought I’d pick it up again with my thoughts on Medjugorje itself.
For those who don’t know, Medjugorje is a small town in Bosnia-Herzegovina where (it is said) the Virgin Mary began appearing to a group of peasant children sometime in the early 1980’s. More that that, while these visionaries are now fully grown, they claim to still be receiving apparitions of Mary — yes, over 20 years later.
From early on, people began to visit the little town, some out of piety, some out of curiosity, and some even out of hostility. In the years that followed, years that included the brutal wars surrounding the disintegration of the former Yugoslav republic, Medjugorje has grown into a well-known site of pilgrimage.
So what did I think? First of all, my thoughts on the so-called apparitions can’t be defined, as you can understand, by any sense of certainty. I think there is compelling evidence that something extraordinary happened in the early days. Also, having actually met one of the visionaries while I was there, I have no reason to believe he isn’t sincere when he says he is experiencing encounters with the Virgin Mary. Where I draw the line is in saying that the mystical experiences of today are qualitatively the same as those at the beginning. Simply put, lots of people have experiences where they feel extraordinarily close to God/Jesus/Mary/angels/saints/the dead etc. I wouldn’t be surprised in the later experiences these mystics are having are actually of a more common sort, but filtered and coloured by the initial extraordinary experience (in effect making even their more ordinary experiences extraordinary, I suppose, without taking away from their “everyman” type).
So maybe there are truly extraordinary things happening in Medjugorje; on the other hand, maybe it is just a place of extraordinary piety. To be sure, this was my experience. While I was in Medjugorje, I discovered I was the only French-speaking priest there. I presided and preached every day, and in the evenings I heard confessions for an average of three hours at a shot. Add to that the many other devotional practices celebrated by the people, and the climate of prayer is palpable.
In chatting with people, I think it is this “spiritual atmosphere” that is most important for most people. Sure, a lot of people come seeking the fantastic, but many others come just seeking. When I got home, I couldn’t help but notice how crazy the world seemed. On the one hand, you’d think a town whose main attraction is apparitions of the Virgin Mary would be giant looney bin. In fact, it is the world that seems looney by comparison, with a seriously messed up set of priorities. It is hard to describe exactly, but definitely true.
So what is the contribution of Medjugorje? Again, I don’t know. I’m not sure the Virgin Mary is more “there” than she is “here”, and even if she is I’m not sure it matters. After all, our closeness to her does not depend on geography, apart from the inner geography of the heart. Perhaps that’s the real miracle.
I’ve been closely following the events unfolding in Iran for the past several days, but today (Saturday, June 20) I’ve been simply glued to my computer screen, refreshing every 15 minutes or so to get the latest. It is some of the most compelling news, photos and videos I have ever seen in my life. Yet, as I chat with people in and around the church, a lot of people are telling me that they haven’t really been following the events in Iran. For those just tuning in, this blog post is meant to be a quick intro to one of the most important social upheaveals of our times.
First of all, Iran is an “Islamic republic”, a form of government not seen anywhere else. The day-to-day affairs of the nation are governed by a President (as the chief executive) and a parliament (called the Majilis, the legislative body). However, more powerful than these two are a series of religious bodies that, in theory, are meant to make sure that all executive and legislative decisions respect Islam. These include the Assembly of Experts, the Guardian Council, and the Supreme Leader. To put this in Canadian terms, imagine the Supreme Court was composed to priests, and the chief justice of the supreme court was also the commander in chief of the armed forces (to make sure the decisions of the supreme court were respected). The day-to-day operations would still belong to the legislature and the executive, but the overall direction of society would be set by non-elected supreme court justices (picked, one would hope, for their competence, wisdom, etc.).
So Iran is both a democracy and not a democracy. In theory, the nation is ultimately governed by God through Islam, and this is not subject to the people’s approval or disapproval. Given that God’s will must be interpreted, however, there are councils of clerics who attempt to apply this divine rule to the country, and there are also regular elections to pick those who sit in the legislature, as well as the President. 2009 was a presidential election year in Iran.
While at first people seemed apathetic, interest in the election took on a life of its own over time as a means for many to express their deep desire for change. Take, for example, this simple yet beautiful campaign video that aired on Iranian TV:
Translation of the signs:
1 (Girl in street): Defending civil rights
2 (Boy next to old? man): Counterbalancing poverty/deprivation
3 (Boy pushing away donation box): Nationalizing oil income
4 (Man standing on rooftop): Reducing tension in international affairs
5 (Boy sitting next to satellite dishes): Free access to information
6 (Girl sitting besides her mother): Supporting single mothers
7 (Girl with cast): Knock down violence against women
8 (Boy): Education for all
9 (Boy infront of man locking car): Increasing public safety
10 (Girl on rooftop): Ethnic and religious minority? rights
11 (Man on rooftop): Supporting NGOs
12 (Girl in front of wall): Public involvement
13 (Boy and girl): We have come for change
14: Change for Iran
There were four candidates in this election. In Iran, an absolute majority of votes is requred to be elected President, so if no candidate gets over 50% in the first round of voting a runoff election is held between the two candidates with the highest number of votes. The election itself took place on June 12, 2009. An estimated 39 million people voted, an incredible 85% of the electorate. Normally very high voter turnout indicated dissatisfaction with the incumbent. There was general astonishment, then, when very shortly after the polls closed the incumbent, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, was declared the winner with 66% of the votes cast. Even more astonishing was the intervention of the Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Khameni, who declared this a “divine decision” and therefore undoable, even though the law gave the other candidates three days to lodge complaints and have them investigated.
People poured into the streets in, I must emphasize, PEACEFUL protest:
You see? We’re not talking violence or thuggery. These are citizens expressing themselves, that’s all. Day after day the protests continued. Mind you, some of the regime’s agents did get a bit excited, with some people getting shot at and killed:
Finally, Friday came. Friday is the day of prayer within Islam, so people have the day off and often go to the mosque to pray and hear the sermon. People waited for word from the Supreme Leader: what would he say in his own sermon? The protesters were bitterly disappointed. In short, he chose the hard line. In fact, it would have been difficult to draw a harder line. No compromise was offered. None. The message was clear: if you continue to protest, we will crush you.
Starting Friday night, the protests began to be noisy. People were shouting from their rooftops. Amidst the tension, one young woman made this amazingly compelling video:
Which brings us to today. Today there are no peaceful protests. There can’t be, because as soon as people protest the forces of the regime move in. In this video of Shiraz University, protesters are suddently rushed by riot police:
But while sticks and stones may break their bones, it is the bullets that are killing them. In this final video, to which I will only post a link, we see a young woman DIE. *I WARN YOU, THIS IS EXTREMELY GRAPHIC* She had just been shot in the upper chest. Her lungs fill with blood, which pours from her nose and mouth. She literally chokes to death. Her picture, along with this video, is popping up all over the Internet. She is the new face of Iran. The only question is, which Iran.
Today marks the start of the Year for Priests, and here in the diocese of Montreal we started with a bang: the ordination to the priesthood of our brother Michael Leclerc. Congrats, Father Michael!
Since I work in the Archdiocesan curia, I sometimes have access to special materials. Here is the text of the homily delivered by Cardinal Turcotte this evening:
My brothers and sisters in Christ,
Today is a very important day in our Church – and this, for three special reasons.
Throughout the world, we are celebrating the annual feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, a day which is also the World Day of Prayer for the Sanctification of Priests.
Also throughout the world, we are beginning a special time that Pope Benedict has designated the “year of the priest”, in honour of the 150th anniversary of the death of Saint Jean Vianney, the curé d’Ars.
Finally, we are gathered in this basilica tonight for a very special event: the ordination of our brother Michael Leclerc to the priesthood.
It is clear to me that these reasons for today being special are all connected. We are not celebrating three realities, but one: the priesthood of Christ, which tonight will find itself renewed in the Church precisely through the ordination of our brother Michael.
Michael, I know you have been preparing for this day for many years now. You first began reflecting on your vocation as a man of faith in the world, working in business. By your ordination as a deacon, you became in reality what your family name already claimed for you: you became “the cleric”, “le clerc”, a man of faith not just IN the world, but FOR the world. And tonight, this grace of ordination in you will be deepened so that you may become a priest of the Church and of Christ.
It is true, the Church needs priests. But more than that, it needs good priests –this is the great grace we ask of the Lord for you, Michael. But how can a man not just be a priest, but a good priest? How can he live on the outside the reality he has already received on the inside?
In the reading we had from the book of Hosea, we see one important sign. God is frustrated with his people as they turn away from him, and he acknowledges that it would be easy to act with anger. But God then declares that He is the Holy One in our midst: he refrains from wrath, and instead shows instead patience and compassion. If we are to be holy ourselves, as God is holy, we too must regularly work to become warm and tender for our people.
Michael, I have heard that you are a man of compassion, and I am glad to know this. Let me then offer you some fatherly advice: if one morning you get out of bed feeling mean, knowing you might be nasty with the people of God, then I give you permission to go back to bed! I say this jokingly, but also seriously. God explained to the prophet how he had led the people with “cords of human kindness, with bands of love”. We must do no less for our people.
A priest is a man of compassion, but also be a man of courage and hope. It is not always easy to be a Christian in our world; it is not always easy to be a priest. But Saint Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, reminds us that our work is done in the context of a greater plan for the whole world. Difficulties and challenges will always be with us, but even they can be sources of glory. For this to happen, though, we must be people of prayer.
Michael, you must be a man of prayer. Saint Paul says how he regularly “falls to his knees before the Father”, and that through this he receives the inner strength of the Spirit. Without prayer, without that living contact with God, anxiety and despair are not far behind. Michael, be faithful to your prayer life, so as to help us be true to our own lives of faith.
At the heart of this life of prayer will be the sacraments, which you, Michael, will celebrate for the people of God in a special way. In the Gospel passage we have the image of water and blood pouring out from the body of Christ. Our Catholic tradition sees in this image the sacraments of baptism and Eucharist, pouring out of the body of Christ that is the Church.
As a deacon you have already celebrated baptisms, but as a priest you will be able to help people renew their baptism through the sacrament of Reconciliation. You will also become a living agent of communion in the Church of Jesus, by presiding the Eucharist.
The Eucharist is given to priests as a sacred trust for the sake of the people of God. As I have said at other gatherings, if there is no Eucharist there is no Church, and if there are no priests there is no Eucharist. Fidelity to this sacramental mission by priests is therefore essential for Christ’s plan of love to become real in our world. It is at the heart of being a good priest.
In describing your calling in this way, Michael, we can see that this vocation is beyond our simple human capacities. But I have learned over the years that we are never alone. I have learned, for example, that the people of God really WANT to love their priests, and that they find joy in praying for us and encouraging us.
My brothers and sisters, if you are here tonight, it is because on some level you believe in the potential of the priesthood and you want to be part of that love and support. For this, I thank you, and I ask you in a special way to carry Michael’s vocation in your heart, and along with it the vocations of all the priests of the Church.
Michael, you are entering into a vocation with many challenges, but by the providence of God you are doing so at the start of a year universally dedicated to the success of your ministry. What a special gift this is from the Lord for you! Indeed, what a special gift this is for all of us as Christian men and women!
This special Year for Priests, which starts today, is not meant to be an occasion to put our priests in a pedestal – and to be honest, we don’t need that. Rather, it is meant to encourage priests to strive for spiritual perfection. Priests remain human beings, with strengths and weaknesses. But like any other person, we priests can always grow more fully in the grace we have received. You, the People of God, are the reason God has called us to be priests; you are the reason we answered that call. May this Year for Priests be an occasion for all the Church of God, priests or not, to celebrate the fidelity of Christ and the mutual love of his disciples.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. AMEN
I had posted a small form allowing people to contact me in case they wanted me to include their intentions in my daily mass. The initial response I received was wonderful!
But no good deed goes unpunished, as they say. Some spambot started to use the feature to send me crap. So I had to drop the post.
Once again, I think this lemon can be turned into lemonade. I’m going to write my own form, with better security, to help prevent these shenanigans. Stay tuned!
From left to right: Katherine Kruse (1991, just prior to me); Ramy Sedra (1993-94); retired Dean Roland Wills, a real mentor to all of us; Nick Kaminaris (1992-93, my successor); me; Prof Mahesh Sharma, who has always been very close to the students, even winning awards thanking him for his devotion; and Karen Cox (1990-1991). One guy who couldn’t make it but who was with us in spirit, I am sure, was Ian Saint-Maurice, who was President from 1989-1990, the first year I got involved. I visited with him in Singapore a few years back, and now he lives in Shanghai. Guess I’ll have to visit him there too, although I’m happy to learn he’s coming to Montreal this August.
The evening was just a blast — looking at old pictures, and sharing old stories. And there was even adventure on the way home! Katherine offered me a lift, so we got in her car and made it about 50 feet before stopping due to a flat tire (in a rather sketchy neighbourhood, I might add). So we called CAA (AAA for my American readers), and it just gave us more time to catch up.
Benin is a country in west Africa. I just finished meeting with Bishop Paul Vieira of the diocese of Djougou (in the north of the country). He came as the representative of the episcopal conference of that country, to see how to encourage relations between the church of Benin and the Catholics of Quebec. We discussed many scenarios, but I then added that one thing that could help a great deal would be for them to organize a program (say two weeks long) that a group of pilgrims from Canada could do to really get to know the people and culture and church of Benin. A positive experience would mean that their local church would have enthusiastic supporters back here in Canada.
He LOVED the idea. So, anybody want to go to Benin?
I had an interesting meeting with Mr. François de Gaspé-Beuabien today. He’s the Chairman of Zoom Media, a major advertising-channel provider. The meeting was in the context of my work with the Canadian Centre for Ecumenism, of which I am the Chairperson. He is willing to offer major support to “get our message out”. The meeting was frank and direct, which is exactly how I like them. I’m hoping it can lead to some major fruit.
This afternoon I took part in an ecumenical pilgrimage to Saint James Anglican church in Stanbridge East, organized by the Order of Saint Lazarus. As you can see from the photo, it is really a lovely little church (seats about 40, maybe). The Knights and Dames of the Order were in full regalia for the Anglican liturgy, while I was merely in choir dress. Still, I don’t dress up in cassock and surplice too often, so I’m sure it was quite a sight!
After the liturgy we were invited to the rector’s home for tea, sandwiches, and pleasant conversation. Many thanks to the Reverend Canon William Blizzard for his warm hospitality, and especially for the way he presides liturgy — as I told him after the service, he just lit up in his role as presider.
I had the honour of attending the wedding of two people whom I consider friends: Corey and Cathy! Congratulations!
The dinner was delicious, and the ambiance was a combination Italian-Caribbean mix. One nice surprise was running into Roland Wills, a former professor of mine from my days studying commerce at Concordia:
Once the meal was basically over it was time to hit the dance floor, with the groom leading the way:
Now you won’t see any pictures of me dancing, not because I don’t know how to have fun at weddings, but because I’m the one taking the pictures! But there is one photo I could not resist. This 3 year old girl and I got along famously at the wedding, and at one point she just wandered onto the dance floor not quite knowing what to do. So she became my dance partner — up on my shoulders! Take a look at the grin on that face:
It wasn’t all just parties, of course. Although I did not preside the ceremony itself, I was generously given the opportunity to preach the homily (which I recorded, and which you can listen to by clicking on this link). I went home between the wedding and the reception and burnt a CD with the homily on it, as my personal wedding gift to the couple.
Day 5 was largely a travel day. We got into Split early in the morning, but the sun was up so I managed to get a few nice shots of the coast of Dalmatia and of Split itself. We had to go through customs, of course, and then take a bus into Bosnia-Herzegovina.
And finally, Medjugorje! First thing I noticed: man, is it ever HOT! The temperature was at least 30°C (that’s around 85°F for my American friends). We settled into our pension, and then immediately headed off to mass at Saint James church (pictured above). It wasn’t far — maybe 10 mintues walk, at the most, if you walk slowly. Medjugorje isn’t a big town.
Rising early the next morning, we began our day with mass (presided by yours truly) at the pontifical basilica of Saint Francis. I love this church. The lower part feels like it is carved out of the rock, and it is here that we find the tombs of Saint Francis and his closest companions (like Brother Leo, for example). I took some extra time in prayer, as Saint Francis is a personal favourite of mine (and has been since I was a child). As for the upstairs, while they have apparently repaired most of the damage from the 1997 earthquake, you could still see cracks in some of the frescos. A real loss, given the cultural and artistic significance of these images.
We also visited the basilica of Saint Claire, but rather than show you yet another church picture I thought I’d offer this view of a typical street within Assisi. The town really has an old-world feel and a special charm to it. Just walking around is a treat, as well as good exercise given the many hills!
Once Assisi was over, though, it was time to head to Ancona to meet our ferry to Split. After checking in on the boat we went for a delicious dinner, and then I headed to bed (it was an overnight ferry). I did get a chance to see the sun setting on the Adriatic, though. We had a very smooth passage — red sky at night, sailor’s delight!
Day 3 began with a visit to the Pope’s cathedral: Saint John Lateran, otherwise known as Christ the Saviour cathedral.
This is a photo of the most important chair in the world. I’m not kidding either: it is the cathedra of the Bishop of Rome, the symbol of his teaching authority as the successor of Peter.
The afternoon began with a visit to Saint Mary Major, another Roman basilica. The mosaics here are just incredible. This is just one photo I took to try and give a sense of their majesty and beauty.
After our visit to this fourth basilica, we boarded our bus and headed to Assisi. Most of our Assisi visit was the next day, but we did stop off at the Portiuncula, the chief church of the Franciscans, upon arriving at the town. I was not allowed to take pictures inside (too bad) but we did have mass in one of the chapels.
Day 2 began with the Wednesday papal audience. I was very close to the central driveway that led to the Pope’s chair, so despite the sea of waving arms I managed to get this picture. The Pope spoke on his recently-completed trip to the Holy Land, and although my Italian was REALLY rusty I managed to catch most of it.
The afternoon was spent at the Vatican museums. The collection of ancient artwork is just INCREDIBLE. Too much to put here in pictures, to be honest, but I took this picture just to give you a sense of scale. You could literally reach out and touch 2000 year old sculptures that still look alive and vibrant. Amazing.
The Vatican museums were very busy, mind you, so when it was over I ducked back into St. Peters for a bit of prayer in the Blessed Sacrament chapel. The sun was setting behind the basilica, and a river of light was streaming in through the dome. It was just beautiful. I called my brother for his birthday after leaving the church, and then headed back to the pension where we were staying.
We left late Sunday evening (May 17) and took May 18 as a day of rest. Our first major day of pilgrimmage, therefore, was Tuesday, where we started our visits of the 4 major basilicas of Rome. We saw these two today:
The first is, obviously, Saint Peter’s Basilica, probably the most famous church in the world (at least to see). The second photo is of the front of the basilica of Saint-Paul-outside-the-walls. Here we had our first major surprise of the trip: running into Bishop Luc Bouchard of the diocese of Saint-Paul, Alberta — and my former seminary prof! We were looking for a place to say mass and he was arriving for the same purpose, so we wound up having a concelebrated mass in a chapel in the basilica. A memorable moment!
I also had a couple of personal moments this particular day: having lunch with the guys at the Pontifical Canadian College, where I was warmly received by Father Eric Sylvestre (also a priest of Montreal), and meeting with Father Gregory Fairbanks of the Pontifical Council for the Promotion of Christian Unity, where I hoped to establish a link between the PCPCU and the Canadian Center for Ecumenism. Nothing like good Roman hospitality!
When I first started blogging, my blog was entitled “Waiting in Joyful Hope”. Was it a sappy name? Maybe, but I loved it. It expressed who I was, and it also expressed my own blogging philosophy — to share on the “amazingness” of the priesthood.
Three years ago, I started a new job in the Archdiocese of Montreal as part of the diocesan curia. Given this major shift in my life, I retitled the blog to “2000 Stories”, as the office where I now worked was often called “2000″ by the people of our diocese (the street address being 2000 Sherbrooke West). I thought it was a cute play on words. I also made the name change, though, because I felt a change of blogging philosophy was in order. You see, I wanted to make sure that my public blog comments would not be miscontrued as something coming “from the diocese”, when in fact it was just me.
One thing did bug me about the name change, though. A friend of mine teased me by saying that I was “no longer Waiting in Joyful Hope”. He meant it as a joke, but it did stick with me. Was it true? Was it not just the blog that was changing, but myself? After all, prior to the name change my blogging had started to go from daily to quite intermittent.
Fast forward to this past May. I went on retreat and prayed about a lot of things. I then went on a pilgrimmage to Rome, Assisi, Medjugorje and San Giovanni. I got a chance to preside, preach, and (get this) hear confessions 3 hours per day at one point. In short, I was close, really REALLY close to the nuclear reactor of grace that is the sacraments, and it felt great. Renewing, you might say.
So I’m renewing the blog too. The look has been back to my original signature yellow-and-green for some time, but now I’m going back to Waiting in Joyful Hope, both as a blog name and as a blogging philosophy. Father Richard Neuhaus once remarked that this was a “required posture for all of us”. Time to get back to basics.
Sorry for the lack of posting from my trip overseas. I tried, but Twitter apparently was not recognizing my text messages so nothing got posted. *sigh*
Anyway, I did get some really nice photos and had some interesting experiences. And I still have the text messages I was trying to send stored in my phone, so I’ll use them as the basis to do some back posts at some point.
Got back from my retreat two days ago. I didn’t realise how much of a spiritual workout it was until I was back in “the world”. I spent a lot of my time re-reading old spiritual journals, and it was interesting to see what issues have evolved and which have remained constant. More challenging, though, was to see where things have somewhat…stagnated. My last night I spent quite a long time before the Blessed Sacrament, volume 13 of my journal books in hand, writing and writing. The Lord has really offered me a major personal challenge coming out of the retreat, and now it is time to take a step forward.
Just as a reminder, I’m off to Europe tomorrow for 2 weeks. As we’ll be on the road regular blogging will be hard, so I’ve set up a Twitter account for myself. You’ll be able to follow my adventures through this blog (look for posts with the “Twitter” category) or at http://twitter.com/fatherdowd. Posts will be brief (as Twitter posts usually are), but it’s better than nothing, fer sher!
First things first: I’m not in Mexico. As I wrote in my last post, I was not particularly freaked out by the swine flu, but rather by how everyone else was freaking out about the swine flu. A friend wrote to me from Cuernavaca to saying that people were really scared and that it would be better to postpone. I emailed the Spanish-language school to see if they were even open — and I got no answer. Not very promising. (In fact, I still haven’t gotten an answer. Has no one noticed I didn’t show up on Monday?)
So last Friday I cancelled my ticket. I was really quite saddened by it. I put it off until the last practical minute. But, using my head, I knew it was the only realistic option.
Monday is my usual day off, and I spent it visiting my family in Ottawa. As I was eating my breakfast, I said to my parents: “I’m supposed to be in a plane right now.”
So, yeah, by Tuesday I was feeling pretty bummed. And then, our department secretary comes in to my office and says she has something to cheer me up: a pilgrimage to Rome, Assisi, and Medjugorje might have to be cancelled because their priest could no longer make it. They needed another one ASAP.
So my negative (not going to Mexico) and their negative (not having a priest) actually combined to make a positive. Yep, I’m off to Europe in a little over a week. Talk about divine providence! I could practically feel the Lord smiling and saying “Haven’t I told you not to worry?”
This morning, before leaving for the parish where I was to celebrate mass, I bumped into the Cardinal on the way to the parking lot.
My first words: “Good morning, your Eminence!”
His first words: “Are you still planning on going to Mexico? This swine flu is very worrying.”
What a way to start your day…and yet, he does have a point. I was actually quite touched by his concern.
I can’t deny that the thought of cancelling my trip has crossed my mind. Yep, I still want to go. I have a couple of offers of places to stay, and my language school from last year has a spot.
But, given this “swine flu”…
Will the school be open for business?
Will the *country* be open for business?
Based on current reports, I’m not actually all that worried. The panic gripping Mexico may very well be exagerrated, just like the SARS episode in Toronto was (in my opinion) blown out of proportion. I’m not saying the suffering of those who have died and their families is insignificant. I’m just saying that 20-30 deaths out of over 1000 reported cases in a population of 25 million (Mexico City alone) is not a pandemic.
And yet…
Can those reports be trusted? Hey, this is Mexico. I’ve seen the inefficiency and corruption. And I’m not saying anything that Mexicans themselves don’t say, trust me. They know it better than I do.
So I am going to keep an eye on the situation for the next few days. If things peter out, fine. If not, I can cancel my ticket and rebook for a later date. Yeah, there would be a penalty, but so what?
There is one thing that really does have me worried, though: my friends. I am honoured to have many friends now in Mexico, and I am worried about them. I am especially worried about the priests, like my friends Padre Roberto and Padre Marco. As priests we come into contact with a lot of people, meaning that we can easily find ourselves on the path of contagious disease (just think of all the hands we shake at the end of each mass, for example). So I ask your prayers for all of them, that the Lord keep them safe. I can just as easily stay home where there are anti-viral drugs ready to go and more that can come. It isn’t so easy for them. Lord have mercy!
As I was preaching this morning, I experienced something that many preachers know: the unexpected homily. This occurs when a person has prepared one homily, but in the course of giving it something you can’t quite explain takes over and a quite different homily emerges.
Well, I liked the results, so in the time between masses I listened to the audio recording and prepared a new set of homily notes so as to be able to give a repeat performance. The only thing was, as I started to speak from the notes yet another different homily emerged. It was very odd! The one homily I had prepared became two other — and quite different — homilies.
So here you have it: a chance to listen to what a difference the “unexpected homily” makes:
Hello my blog-reading friends, now that Holy Week is over and we are into Easter week I felt it appropriate to get back to the blog and wish all of you the best of this season. I personally love the Easter Octave (i.e. the week after Easter Sunday) and like to treat it like a week-long festival of grace. So treat yourselves! This is the week of our greatest joy!
I was invited to attend the annual general meeting of the Order of Saint Lazarus today, so I went. What, you never heard of them? Me neither until recently, but I have been pleasantly surprised to discover this group of active citizens working for charitable purposes throughout Canada (and the world). They have a long and (literally) noble history, so I thought I’d give them a plug.
Today I began to work in ernest on a new personnel database for our office. I’m able to update the main profile table, and the system I have designed tracks every change made to that table (along with the userid of whoever made it). Next step: a login system, which should not be hard because I’ve designed something like that before.
My brother called me up today to see if I wanted to take in a comedy show. As it turns out, Visions Camp (of which he was a member many moons ago) was doing a fundraiser, so he was coming into town. So I figured, why not? A good chance to hang with my bro, I thought. As it turns out, I saw a lot of people I knew, which was really nice, and I might add that the comedy was actually pretty funny! A little colourful at times, but nothing blasphemous (which I absolutely hate). I had a few good laughs, and I’m glad I went.
One of the major advisory committees within our diocese is called the Nominations Committee. It is composed of the Director of the Office for Pastoral Personnel, his assistant directors (including yours truly) and the regional episcopal vicars of our diocese. It is the committee responsible to discern what pastoral assignments to recommend to the Archbishop.
Every spring, the Nominations Committee goes through an exercise to determine what pastoral changes will be made for the September 1 start of the pastoral year. Which means that every spring we have lots of long meetings, trying to see what needs to change and what needs to stay the same.
Today was one of those meetings. Sorry, the results are top secret until the Cardinal approves of the recommendations, but I must say I was pleasantly surprised by how relatively painless the exercise was this time. Oh we are not done yet, and much can still be undone through unforseen circumstances, but it is looking good.
I went for an eye exam today (last one was in 2007). Everything checks out well – a slight increase in myopia, but not need for reading glasses just yet, and my astigmatism seems to have gone away! I can keep the same glasses and still be ok for driving, but as these are getting old it might be time for a change.
Today was the funeral of my sister-in-law’s stepfather. Grandpa David, as my nieces called him, was not a believer, so the service at the funeral home was actually more of a memorial than an actual funeral. Still, lots of people came, and I drove from Montreal for it (just to come back right after to teach my evening course). I was really proud of Tawnia for being such a trooper, and of my niece Chloe for the reading she did at the service. Please pray for the family.
I’ve been having a discussion with a group on friends on the question of exorcism (the topic seems to come up once every so often), so I thought I’d write a bit about it, and in particular, why exorcisms are so rare. I am referring, of course, to what is called a “major” exorcism. Minor exorcisms are done all the time as part of the Church’s liturgical life, and prayers of deliverance are also known as part of spiritual direction and discernment.
The first major reason that exorcisms are generally quite rare is because the potential subject must demonstrate symptoms that a reasonable person would prudently judge cannot be caused by some natural cause. A typical example is preternatural knowledge, such as a person being able to distinguish between blessed and non-blessed objects. There are sometimes dramatic and seeminly compelling symptoms that can be exhibited by a person, but if those symptoms are not preternatural they get far less of a hearing in an exorcism case.
A second major reason is that the subject must be known to not suffer from an active mental illness. Delusional people regularly conclude they are possessed, and then call the Church for an exorcism. Some people think that obliging them can’t do any harm, even if they aren’t possessed. In this respect, they are wrong. If a person believes (wrongly) they are possessed, and then get an exorcism, and then find they aren’t “better”, they can easily come to the conclusion that exorcism is worthless, or the Church is worthless, or that the Devil is more powerful than Jesus. Their later state is worse than the first, as now the door is open to true theological despair.
(Let me point out that reason #2 usually trumps reason #1. In other words, if a mentally ill person also shows preternatural signs, the exorcism will probably still not be authorized. Again, even if the exorcism “worked”, certain symptoms would still be present afterwards because they are related to the illness, not the possession, so the risk of despair is still present.)
Finally, a third major reason why exorcisms are generally quite rare is because the ordinary means of pastoral care already possess a great deal of power. While exorcism is not some sort of magical cure, it isn’t a sacrament either. A healthy relationship with Jesus Christ lived with a healthy prayer life, all the while using the ordinary means of sanctification (such as the sacraments) is usually quite enough. Indeed, in the practice of the Church for minor exorcisms, they are only done for people who aren’t yet baptized. The baptized, on the other hand, have access to much more powerful things like the Eucharist.
I know there are some people who believe that the Church should authorize more exorcisms, and that the failure to do so somehow demonstrates that we have “lost faith” in the existence of the Devil. I will admit that in some cases, this may actually be true. My point was not to get into that debate here, but merely to mention that there are solid reasons why even someone who DOES believe the Devil exists (such as myself) might still want to be cautious. In my experience, those wanting more exorcisms haven’t yet taken into account the reasons given here, and when they do, a more prudent critical sense is developed for these things.
I got a new job today: as of a little after noon I am the acting chairperson for the Canadian Centre for Ecumenism. After a period of exemplary service our prior chairperson resigned today, and I got put in her place. The Centre is facing some major challenges ahead, so please pray for me.
Congratulations to the bride and groom, who were married today. While I did not preside their wedding, I did have the honour of preparing them for the celebration, and so I preached the homily and (in addition) scored an invite to the reception. Ah, it felt good to be back in the swing of things. I love weddings!
Yesterday I had a most interesting experience: I was refused entry into the United States at the Champlain border crossing. Or, to be more accurate, my passenger was refused entry, so we had to be processed inside the border services post and then sent back to Canada.
While it sounds kinda dramatic, it wasn’t really. In fact, we did this on the advice of Immigration Canada, and the Americans were totally aware of the situation. Basically, my passenger (a foreign priest) needed a new immigration document. He had applied by mail, but that took months only for it to be refused by mistake. We know it was by mistake because when we consulted the immigration office in Montreal, they confirmed that it should probably not have been refused. Rather than wait another two to four months, they then proposed a procedure some call the “Buffalo shuffle” (not the official name, I assure you). Basically, because immigration officers are allowed to issue papers right at the border and on the spot, the trick is to go into the USA and return immediately into Canada. The danger is that there is no guarantee that the person will be allowed back into Canada, but since it was Immigration that had proposed it I figured they probably had notes regarding his case on file. Besides, we had documentation up the wazoo, so no worries, right?
Well……I’ll admit, I wasn’t too keen on the idea. After all, somebody does need to bring the individual in question to the border, so you get personally involved. But no guts no glory, right? And I’m happy to say that all’s well that ends well. First of all, hats off to the Americans. The border guards were friendly, understanding and professional, explaining exactly what needed to be done; I was impressed! The Canadian side went smoothly as well: we weren’t the first ones to ever do the “Buffalo shuffle”! While it took a couple of hours to be processed, all the necessary paperwork was soon in place. Soon my brother priest had a social insurance number as well, and it now ready to become a taxpayer. Lucky him.
I’ve been collecting photos from my brother priests who did the pilgrimmage to Israel in February. This photo was taken by our guide while we were saying mass in the lower chapel of the Church of the Transfiguration on Mount Tabor. One of my favourites.
I’ve been really busy with work and such, but also with an important teaching project. On Wednesday nights, I teach a course called the Christian Understanding of God. Week 9 of this course was to be a comparative study of the Christian and Islamic understanding of God. And the lecture was two nights ago. Course material here:
As you can imagine, I was a bit concerned about doing this well. I don’t believe that the goal of interfaith dialogue is to create some sort of “mushy middle”, a tertium quid that pretends that fundamental differences don’t exist. They do. But because those differences are so fundamental, it makes it hard for each side to simply *understand* each other. In my opinion, successful dialogue means that side A is able to describe side B in such a way that side B recognizes itself in the description.
So that’s what I was trying to accomplish in my class: a Christian explaining to Christians the Islamic understanding of God in such a way that Muslims would not feel their beliefs were being ridiculed or caricatured, but rather respected (of course with the understanding that the speaker is not a Muslim). And given that I have Muslims in my class, their feedback was important to know if I was on the right track. As it turns out, that feedback was positive. I am open to being corrected, of course, as I want to only share the truth: but in the meantime, I’m happy to share with you the fruits of LOTS of hours of labour.
Some time ago Eric, a faithful reader, posted this comment:
I used your beatitude homily in class (with proper citation, hopefully traffic picks up! But I have to say…all my greek students said ‘makarios’ translates as ‘death’ or something close to it. They asked all their relatives from the ‘old country’ as well…unanimous on the ‘death’ translation.
Funny thing: one of my parishioners, a young woman, told me that her religion teacher (named Eric) handed out info on the Beatitudes, and to her surprise my name was on it…she was very proud. Way to go!
Now regarding the question of makarios = death, I looked it up in both my dictionary of koine Greek and my dictionary of modern Greek. Both agree that “makarios” = “blessed”. (Try it for yourself on this on-line dictionary.) I did notice in my dictionary that there is a similar word that means “deadly”, but it is not the *same* word.
Eric, if your students can enlighten us on this, I’d be much obliged.
I’ve been spending my morning getting ready for week 7 of my course on the Christian Understanding of God. One thing I wondered before going to the Holy Land was how the trip might affect my teaching of this course, or indeed how it might affect my own personal vision of the Christian understanding of God. I’ve come to realise it has.
I’ve been confronted, in a powerful way, by the Christian teaching of the Incarnation. I’ve been confronted, in effect, by kenosis.
Kenosis is the theological idea of the “self-emptying” experienced by the Son of God as part of his Incarnation. Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not cling to that equality, but emptied himself, taking on human nature.
What kenosis does is transform our religion from a myth to a historical claim. “On this particular time, in this particular place, God walked the earth.” Rather than being a fantasy in our heads, it makes a claim to being absolutely *real*.
I’ve known this on a mental level, of course, but I must confess that I now realise how much my own faith was more mythological than really incarnate in the real. After all, I’m a theologian, which means I’m a theorist, and every theory is a kind of abstration. Theologians, like physicists, try and explain reality: we just include God in it. What we come up with a models of reality that help us interact with “real reality”, but we can get so comfortable with our models that a kind of mythological mindset arises. Are we really in a proper relationship with reality? Or are we more in a relationship with the model of reality in our mind?
This first really hit home for me when I visited the ruins of Capernaum. The bottom line was, Jesus lived here. It was not a big town, and he was there for a couple of years at least. We saw the ruins of the old synagogue where Jesus would have taught, and while one might debate whether the synagogue was really there or 10 feet to the left, it didn’t take away from the fact that Jesus walked the same ground upon which I was now standing.
In other words, Jesus was a particular man. He lived in a time and place. Since the birth of Christianty Jesus has been presented as a universal man, and indeed I believe he is, but I think we do this presentation in a way that is sometimes too mythologized (or at least in a way that leaves us susceptible to a mythological mentality). But being in Capernaum meant I was confronted, not with the “universal man”, but with the particular Jesus. Again, the challenge was not to my faith in Jesus, but rather in how much my own mindset has turned the Christian story into a kind of myth, an elaborate religio-scientific theory that needed “figuring out”.
The incarnation is very disturbing. It replaces the universal with the particular.
This hit home for me a second time when I visited the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I will admit I was sceptical at first if the place now called is tomb was really his tomb. After certain archeological explanations offered by our guide, however, I was more open to the possibility that this was really the place where he was laid. And given the limited size of the area, I couldn’t help but think: Gee, he was short.
Jesus was short.
The incarnate word of God was short.
In a mythological view of Christianity, the tallness or shortness of Jesus has little relevance except as perhaps part of an artistic presentation of the man.
But, in the incarnation, the bottom line is he had a particular height. From what I could see, about 5-foot-2 max.
Now you may say to yourself “Come on, Father Tom, what’s the point?” Obviously, I don’t think the question of his height has any Earth-shaking significance. But from my point of view, I was suddenly confronted with a piece of real data that had ABSOLUTELY NO PLACE in my inner understanding of God and Christianty, data that I was unable to brush off as I might otherwise have done BECAUSE I WAS THERE STARING AT THE FUNERAL SLAB.
In other words, I was confronted with how much of my faith perspective had a mythological structure.
As a final point, I think I’ve come to recognize why myths are so seductive: it is because they are so grand. They can embrace anything, and indeed usually embrace everything, covering it all with glory and piety.
Kenosis, and the incarnation, are not grand. They are extremely ordinary.
I feel like I’ve been stripped theologically naked. And the only alternative is to either chase after new myths, or to embrace the incarnation. Or, more accurately, the Incarnate One.
I’ve created a special Google newsfeed using their online tools. It searches current news items for the following terms: Pope or church or Vatican or God or Catholic (the order does not matter).
