Unless the death takes place in a health care institution, call 911, and mention that your loved one has died. A doctor will be sent to issue a death certificate, which is necessary before the body of the deceased can be moved.
Call the funeral home. They will receive the body, and begin to prepare it for the funeral rites.
Call your parish. It is our honour and privilege to journey with you in this difficult time. We can meet with you even before you go to the funeral home, so that the arrangements you make will benefit from the full consoling power of our Catholic traditions.
The Quebec government has a helpful website called What to do in the event of death. While this website does not explain any of the spiritual dimension, it does cover the many civil elements involved.
Planning a Catholic funeral
We must not underestimate the power of the Catholic funeral rites. By empowering us to turn our grief over to God they provide us some measure of closure, and help us to turn to the future with hope. We should want to take full advantage of what these rites offer.
Our first priority is to respect the wishes of the deceased, if at all possible. For example, if the person did not want a Catholic funeral, we should respect that. Feel free to talk over the specifics of any special wishes of the deceased with your priest, and he can let you know what is possible to do in a Catholic context.
We should mention that it is possible for a Protestant or Orthodox to receive a funeral in a Catholic church, provided of course that this would not have been contrary to their wishes.
The Catholic funeral rites have three main “stations”: (1) the visitation, (2) the funeral liturgy, and (3) the burial.
The Visitation
The visitation (usually at the funeral home) is a chance to come together and mutually console one another. It is also a chance to receive love and support from the community. A minister of the Church will typically make a visit as well. Do not hesitate to ask for prayers to be led, and feel free to have friends and family members themselves lead prayers (such as the Rosary, for example).
These rituals and gestures can be tiring but have tremendous consoling power. For these reasons, a visitation should not be too short — give yourselves time to let God prepare you for the next step.
The funeral liturgy
The funeral liturgy is the moment par excellence when we turn our grief over to God and implore his saving power. For Catholics this liturgy is usually a special funeral Mass, held in the parish church. The symbols, the readings and homily, the music, the communion and the gestures of farewell are all powerful reminders that God conquers all things — even death.
Many Catholics are opting to have a funeral liturgy in the funeral home. This is leading to some confusion. Despite appearances, the “chapel” in a funeral home is not, in fact, a Catholic chapel at all. It was built by a secular business that must report to its shareholders. While we have nothing against earning an honest profit, in this context there is a danger that the Mass can become part of a “product” that is bought and sold.
It is possible to have a Catholic funeral liturgy in a funeral home, but if this is your option you need to know that Catholic priests are not permitted to say Mass or distribute Holy Communion in the “chapel” of a funeral home.
If we think about it, though, does it not make more sense that the funeral liturgy take place in the church? After all, the person was baptized in church, had their First Communion and Confirmation in church, and would even have been married in church. Having the funeral liturgy in church recognizes that death is also a sacred event, with God no less present. So do consider bringing your loved one to church one last time. We are ready to welcome you.
The burial
The book of Genesis shows God creating the first human being out of the earth, and only then breathing a soul into him. After a loved one’s soul has gone to God in death, it is now time to return his or her body to the earth from which it was made by burying it in consecrated ground.
This burial usually takes place immediately after the funeral liturgy, but sometimes a temporary delay is needed. Either way your Catholic minister will be ready to lead you in prayer at the grave site.
Some cultures prefer to place the remains of the deceased in a special building or mausoleum dedicated to this purpose. This tradition reminds us of Jesus’ words, “In my Father’s house are many rooms”. (John 14: 2) Along with burial at sea, the use of a mausoleum is possible in the Catholic tradition.
The burial in a consecrated place is a powerful moment. It allows us to let go in a final gesture of farewell. This gives God room to enter our hearts and guide us to a future with hope. It also gives us a designated special place to visit on special days and anniversaries, to continue to pray for our loved one as well as for ourselves.
What about cremation?
Cremation is now a possible option within the Catholic funeral rites. It is important we understand how it fits in a Catholic context.
Our recommendation is, if cremation is to be used, that it be done after the funeral liturgy. Our Catholic traditions hold the body of the deceased in high esteem, because during the person’s life that body was a temple of the Holy Spirit. There are certain prayers and gestures in the funeral liturgy, such as sprinkling with Holy Water and the use of incense, which are meant to show honour to this body. These can only be used, however, if that body is actually present. So while it is possible to have a true funeral liturgy in the presence of ashes (and sometimes this is unavoidable), if we wish to truly take full advantage of the power of our Catholic traditions it is best to bring the body to church and have the cremation afterwards.
It is important to note that the ashes should be buried, in their entirety, and all in the same place. Some new and different practices are emerging, such as keeping some or all of the person’s remains behind at home, distributing them among people in small “souvenir urns”, or scattering them without actually burying them. These practices do not take full advantage of the spiritual power of the burial, whether because we do not really let go, or because we deprive ourselves of a special sacred place of future visitation. For these reasons none of these practices are part of the Catholic tradition, and Catholic ministers are not permitted to participate in alternative burial rites (by blessing the urns or ashes, for example, or by saying prayers at the “scattering”). Of course the wishes of the deceased must be respected, but if any alternative rituals have been proposed it is best to speak with your Catholic minister about them in the planning of the funeral rites.
We sometimes choose these alternative rituals because we just didn’t know what the Catholic way was. If you have the ashes of someone at home it is still possible to have them buried no matter how long it has been since your loved one has gone to God. Feel free to contact your parish without fear of embarrassment, and we will be glad to help you arrange this final send-off.
It is our honour and privilege to serve you
The visitation, funeral liturgy, and burial together form a powerful moment that should not be underestimated. These rituals carry in them the collective wisdom of almost 2000 years of experience. Your Catholic ministers have only your best interests at heart, because we have seen over and over again the beautiful and healing graces God gives people by means of these rituals. So feel free to contact us early in the process of planning the funeral rites, to help ensure that you, your family and your friends can take full advantage of the power that God wishes to share with you. May God bless you fully and abundantly!
“The souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them.” (Wisdom 3: 1)
In case you were wondering if the feeding frenzy surrounding the Catholic Church right now has really jumped the shark, the fact that the idea of arresting Pope Benedict and putting him on trial has gotten any traction at all should be proof enough.
The problem is, I am not sure the authors of the silly stunt actually realise it is a silly stunt. In their own minds they may just be serious. This can unsettle people, therefore, because the confidence of those proposing the silly stunt may just override the otherwise natural instinct to cry out “the Emperor has no clothes!” As well, to help bring them back to reality, someone needs to point out to Dawkins et al (who supposedly pride themselves on their reason) that they are being absurd and quite non-rational.
Although I haven’t yet decided where to fit this into my previous post “10 points regarding the current crisis in the Catholic Church”, I thought I should write it anyway. One thing I’ve noticed about the anger directed to the Catholic Church is the notion that the Church failed to sufficiently punish people, whether they were abusive priests or the bishops who mismanaged them. I thought I should put that notion in context.
People are sometimes surprised to discover that the Church has a penal section in its canon law, but on the other hand most organized societies do. The punishments vary — the Boy Scouts may just kick you out of the troop, while the Mafia will kill you — but they are usually there. Heck, even groups of little kids who are friends develop unwritten rules about what is acceptable/fair and what isn’t, with the punishments ranging from getting excluded to being made fun of to to getting beat up. Anyone who has worked with little kids knows how dramatic even these lesser punishments can be — and how arbitrarily they are meted out sometimes, based on things as stupid as how someone looks or even just what some popular people think.
So the Church has a penal law, and because it doesn’t want that law to be artibrary that law is governed by things like due process and the right to defend oneself and the right to appeal, etc. Of course, these things exist in secular societies as well, so we often just transpose our experience of our civil court system onto the Church, even though that experience more often comes from watching TV than from real life. However, the Church system is different from the civil system in a very fundamental way:
The Church penal system has, as its objectives, the protection of the innocent, the restoration of justice, the correction of the offender, and the prevention of bad example. I would argue that this is usually the order of priority as well, although the exact mix may vary depending on individual cases.
But did you notice what is missing? *Punishment.* Secular societies have, as a key goal, the regulation of the punishment impulse, which left to itself often comes out as a form of mob justice. In a sense, secular justice is often a calculated form of social revenge, with the system designed to make sure that “the punishment fits the crime”. It should not be surprising that people unfamiliar with the Catholic system see how it works and are therefore appalled, because (in their view) their isn’t enough *punishment*!
Now that doesn’t mean there aren’t forms of punishment within the Catholic system: there are. However, these punishments are always a means to an end, and not the end in itself. Were it the latter, punishment would not longer be a means of discipline but rather a means of revenge, and the Bible teaches us that vengeance belongs to God and God alone.
When we take a look at how the different cases of sexual abuse were handled, we see that, while some were mismanaged, most were handled according to the priorities outlined above, where (let us not forget) protection of the innocent is priority number one.
Let us draw from an actual case: Father P. is accused of abusing a child. He admits it, and is taken to civil trial where he pleads guilty. He begins to serve out his sentence. The diocese contacts the victim and makes arrangements for her to be assisted with whatever therapy, etc., she may need. But what does the diocese do with Father P.?
First of all, the diocese makes sure other innocents are protected: it limits his right to contact with the public, removing him from all public ministry and requiring him to live in a clergy residence where his movements are more easily supervised. Thus, the public is protected much better than if he were simply “kicked out” of the priesthood and left to live in the community.
Next, the diocese offers to have him retrained so that he can still make a useful contribution to society. This training will necessarily involve preparation for a position within the diocese itself, as the odds of him getting a secular job now are next to none. Besides, it is better if he works within the diocese, as the aforementioned supervision is more easily maintained. Thus, reparation begins to be made for the harm caused.
Finally, the diocese seeks that the offender be corrected. Father P., in this case, does not deny his sin/crime, and is truly contrite. However, as we now know that pedophilia cannot be cured, the diocese requires of Father P. that he continue to see a therapist for the rest of his life, so that at the very least his evil tendency can be managed and not overwhelm him.
(The goal of prevention of bad example usually only applies when the offender is trying to sow moral/spiritual confusion. Given that there is currently a broad social consensus against pedophilia, a consensus that the Church certainly agrees with, this goal does not really apply in this case. In other penal cases it might, though, although it should also be coupled with solid catechesis for the faithful. After all, it is hard to confuse people who have a solid grounding in their faith and morals in the first place.)
Given all this, the actions taken by the diocese in the case of Father P. are not only the best things the diocese could do, they are the best things anyone can do. After all, Father P. has already been punished by society, and once he “does his time” civil society will offer very little else to protect him (and others) from himself. He could be put on a sex-offender registry, but that is nothing like the direct involvement the diocese has as mentioned above.
Like I said, this is based on a real case. And what happened in real life, when the diocese tried to implement its measures?
(1) The diocese was accused of coddling Father P. by letting him live in a clergy house.
(2) When word got out that Father P. was to be retrained for administrative work, a huge hullabaloo arose that he was supposedly being rewarded with some sort of a promotion.
(3) People said, with great contempt, that because the diocese did not move to kick Father P. out of the priesthood it showed it preferred to shelter a pedophile.
Now might it have been smarter to simply have kicked Father P. out of the priesthood? On a public relations level, perhaps, because it would have been a response to the desire of many to see more punishment. It is also smarter on a financial level, as Father P. now no longer costs the diocese anything. But on the level of what is truly just, not just for the Church, but for society, does it make sense? Does it make sense to just unleash a sex offender into broader society with no realistic supervision, marketable skills, job prospects or support to avoid re-offending? How does that help avoid another victim? How does it help repair the harm done?
Simply put, it doesn’t. That is why mob justice, left to itself, inevitably tends to the death penalty: because the goal is to satisfy one’s anger by utterly destroying the offender.
Now I am not saying that the penal system in the Church is perfect. There is certainly room for improvement, particularly in how fast (or, usually, how slow) things proceed — after all, justice delayed is justice denied. Our canonists could have better training in this area, and some Church authorities could do with being more willing to follow actual procedure rather than trying to handle cases on an ad hoc basis.
All that being said, though, I am personally glad the Catholic Church instinctively resists the call of mob justice, and I am glad its penal system sees punishment as a means to an end, and not an end in itself. The only punishment that is legitimately a true final end is the punishment of Hell, and that judgment belongs to God alone. No one should wish that another wind up there, not even a worst enemy. And no one, especially not the Church, should be trying to force others to start to live their Hell now.
I have not really written on my blog since I returned from Mexico, as I have just had too much to do lately (including a little thing called “Easter”, you may have heard of it ), but I did want to offer a few thoughts on the scandal/crisis currently gripping the Church. This post may be updated from time to time as my own reflection on the question develops.
Point 1: In this time of confusion and hurt, your priests are with you.
The Church is going through a very painful time right now, and by “church” I don’t just mean the institution but the People of God as a whole. This pain comes from many sources — from compassion for the victims, from anger at the abusers, from disappointment at some in authority, from confusion and hurt from things reported (not always accurately) in the media, and so on.
I just want to say that, as a priest who knows his brother priests, we are with you in this. Every priest is a Christian first, a priest second, and as members of the People of God (not just as leaders) we are living the pain too. We love you, we want to be good pastors for you, and we deeply regret that some of our brothers have taken advantage of your trust and love for nefarious ends. Seeing you confused and hurt like this is our worst nightmare, and many of us feel just as helpless at the situation continues.
In fact, this is one major reason why I have written this blog entry. It isn’t just to vent my feelings (although there is some of that), it is also to help myself and others get a grip on what is going on. Many people have asked me, individually or in groups, how to understand this crisis. I am hoping this post will help give us, at the very least, some clarity.
Point 2: Compassion for the victims is job number one.
I think this next point goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway. There are no winners when sin happens, only losers, and compassion for the victims of crime and sin is absolutely necessary. A key corollary to this is that the victim, as much as possible and within reason, should get to decide what form this compassion takes.
For this reason, I personally utterly reject the attempts I’ve noticed in the media and comboxes around the Internet to link this problem of clergy sex abuse to things like the Catholic stance on abortion, contraception, women priests, and so on. I realise a lot of people disagree with the Catholic position on these things, and I believe there needs to be room to have a frank discussion regarding them (heck, this blog has been one of the places for it to take place). But these issues have nothing to do with clergy sex abuse, except in a very lateral way, so to invoke this crisis to try and whip up support for dissent on these issues is, in reality, an attempt to manipulate people’s disgust and pain to promote an unrelated end. I can assure you, true victims don’t like having their painful experiences used by third parties for unrelated ends.
Point 3: The Catholic Church is a Church of sinners called to holiness.
A key initial “point of clarity” that we must recognize is that the Church is not a hotel for saints, it is a hospital for sinners. To judge the Church based on how many sinners she contains is to miss the point. What is truly remarkable about the Church is not how many sinners she contains — those can be found anywhere — but how many saints she produces. In this we have nothing to be ashamed of.
Now some might say that a Church that has sinners in her midst should stop teaching her moral absolutes, as though it was somehow hypocritical to do so. That is like saying a doctor should stop treating his patients because they are sick. It is nonsense. The solution is not less treatment, but more. The solution for the Catholic Church is not to promote holiness less, but to promote it more.
There are also some who say that the issue is not the members of the Church so much as her leadership, i.e. that because the leadership of the Church does not always live up to the teachings the Church should just give up those teachings. Again, that is like saying an overweight nutritionist should stop teaching people how to eat right. The simple fact is that, when you have a Church of sinners called to be saints, you are always going to be faced with the possibility that some of the leadership (who are among those sinners as well) will have to effectively say “do as I say, not as I do”. That sucks, to be sure, but while I want the leaders of the Church to both teach *and* live the truth, I’ll rather they not give up teaching the truth even if they have trouble living it.
The Catholic Church has never claimed her members are morally perfect. The Catholic Church has never claimed her leadership is morally perfect. In fact, the only members she has ever claimed are morally perfect are the saints in heaven, and the only authority figure she has ever claimed to be morally perfect is Jesus himself. As for the rest, we admit, admit freely, and have always admitted, that ALL the living members of Church, the Pope included, are sinners.
Point 4: The Catholic Church, in its official teaching, has always been opposed to child sexual abuse.
2389 Connected to incest is any sexual abuse perpetrated by adults on children or adolescents entrusted to their care. The offense is compounded by the scandalous harm done to the physical and moral integrity of the young, who will remain scarred by it all their lives; and the violation of responsibility for their upbringing.
There is no question that some Catholics sin against this moral law, whether directly or as enablers (e.g. by turning a blind eye). However, the problem is not with the law itself, but the sin. The horror people feel in the face of stories of sexual abuse is actually a legitimate Catholic response.
There are some who say that this crisis shows the Church to be hypocritical, because of the disconnect between her high moral standards and the behaviour of some of her members. This, however, is to misunderstand the nature of hypocrisy. To believe one thing and do another is not to be a hypocrite, it is to be a sinner. In the face of sin there are only two possible responses: hypocrisy, or conversion. With conversion, we change our behaviour to match our standards. With hypocrisy, we lower our standards to match our behaviour. Personally, I am proud that the Church has had a consistent high moral standard with regards to child sexual abuse, and I reject the idea that the Church is somehow being hypocritical. For us to be hypocrites, we would have to be trying to defend sexual abuse — which, I might add, no one is doing.
Or are we? I don’t mean as a Church, I mean as a society. Let’s not pretend that our society doesn’t permit (or even encourage) the sexualization of minors, because (as Mark Shea points out) it does. Let’s not pretend that there aren’t people who think that a sex abuser like Roman Polanski should get a free pass for drugging and sodomizing his victim, because there are (see Mitterand and Goldberg). If a by-product of all this negative publicity for the Church is to make sure pedophilia loses its cool, then maybe it is worth it.
Point 5: The sin of sexual abuse is less prevalent among Catholic priests than elsewhere.
As an initial caveat, let me begin by saying that, of course, even one case of sexual abuse is too many. However, as I have said before, the Catholic Church is a Church of sinners, and does not claim otherwise. Therefore, at any one one point, there will be pedophiles who are members of the Catholic Church, just as there will be pedophiles in any other walk of life. There is no magic wand we can wave to eliminate pedophilia from the Earth, and there is no magic pedophile detector that can infallibly weed out potential perpetrators from the Church and her clergy. It sucks, but that is reality.
Like I also said, though, the Catholic Church claims to be a hospital for those sinners, helping them to improve. Is this claim valid? The only way to know is to look at the numbers. Since the issue is Catholic priests, the question becomes: are there fewer cases of sexual abuse among Catholic priests than among the general population?
As it turns out, yes. Dr. Thomas Plante, Professor of Psychology and Director of the Spirituality and Health Institute at Santa Clara University as well as an Adjunct Clinical Professor of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at Stanford University School of Medicine, has written extensively on this subject. His article A Perspective on Clergy Sexual Abuse demonstrates that, given the data for the last half-century, the prevalence of sexual abuse perpetrated by clergy has been half that of the general population, and has been declining even further.
Point 6: Not every claim of child sexual abuse is true.
While it may not be politically correct to say so, the sad truth is that not every claim of child sexual abuse is true. Such claims have been made not only against priests, but against educators, boy-scout leaders, and so on. It is the ultimate nightmare of anyone seeking to do good for children, as the damage from a false accusation is very hard to undo.
Yes, false claims have been made against Catholic clergy, as pointed out in the article The problem of false claims of clergy sexual abuse (originally published in 2002 in Risk Management magazine, a professional publication for corporate risk managers). These false claims can stem from a number of factors, but in all cases lead to a nightmare for the one falsely accused.
Point 7: Not everything that looks like a cover-up is a cover-up.
As I mentioned in point 1, compassion for victims must be our top priority, and I believe that in the vast majority of cases Church authorities have tried to act with compassion. This genuine desire to be compassionate, however, can sometimes place those in authority in a bind. Imagine someone approaches their bishop with a complaint about a priest and says “Father so-and-so did this to me. I’m don’t hate the Church or anything, and I don’t want to go to the police or media, I just want you to know about it so that he can be prevented from doing it again. I don’t want anyone to know I spoke with you, and I don’t want any action against him to be traceable to me.” What can the bishop do? Assuming he believes the person, then what? And, of course, sometimes it isn’t the victim who comes forward, but a parent or friend who is adamant that the victim’s name, or even their own name, be kept out of it. How can the story even be checked in such a case? A victim has come forward, which took guts, but at the same time he or she is asking the bishop to do something without giving him the necessary tools. The bishop then has a choice: use the information even though knowledge of this testimony will come out (i.e. break confidentiality), or sit on it and hope that the person changes his or her mind, hoping that this will happen before another victim is created (creating the appearance of a cover-up). Which is better?
Breaking confidentiality can mean that future victims are possibly avoided, but the current victim feels betrayed and re-victimized (and others are perhaps discouraged from speaking out for fear of shame), while the opposite choice means that there is terrible potential risk to the community.
This is not simply a theoretical scenario. Assuming the case involves a minor, recent laws require reporting even a suspected case to the authorities, and I don’t know of any case where bishops failed to respect those laws. But in other situations the response is not so cut and dried, in part precisely because the person in authority wants to both respect the wishes of the victim and at the same time protect others. Personally I think if we are going to err it must be in the protection of possible future victims, as anyone who comes forward with negative information about someone else must take responsibility for that information, and in my experience a lot of victims eventually come around to this conclusion themselves. But it isn’t an easy discernment.
So there are cover-ups and there are cover-ups. The worst kind, the kind that really anger people (and rightly so) are the kind where the chief concern seems to be for the reputation of the institution rather than the potential harm to others. Respecting the confidentiality requested by a victim is one thing, but actually covering something up that is known to be true out of fear of the truth is simply unacceptable. The truth eventually gets out anyway, and the evident lack of respect for the truth is far more damaging — to everyone.
Point 8: We cannot serve both God and Mammon.
Mammon is the name given to the demon of greed and money. Jesus warned his disciples that they cannot serve both God and Mammon (Matthew 6:24). Saint Paul even went so far as to say that the love of money is the root of all evil (1 Timothy 6:10), calling it a form of idolatry (Colossians 3:5). And it is true: when money starts to come into the equation, corruption is not far behind and all bets are off.
We must, therefore, call a spade a spade. One of the major reasons the problems surrounding clergy sexual abuse have been permitted to fester — indeed, one of the major reasons genuine cover-ups have occurred when they occurred — is out of the fears surrounding the loss of money.
These fears are not groundless. Entire dioceses have been bankrupted due to lawsuits stemming from the evil actions of just a few. In cases where a bishop was truly negligent in his management of his priests (i.e. when there is direct liability), most people agree that a lawsuit is in order. However, what many people don’t realise is that these lawsuits didn’t only just succeed when the bishop acted improperly. The is a legal principle called “vicarious liability”, which states that even if a bishop was totally unaware of the evil actions of a priest, he is responsible for compensating people for those evil actions. In fact, it isn’t just him, it is the whole diocese. This creates a deep pool of potential wealth for victims, and for their lawyers.
The consequence of this, of course, is that it creates even more victims. People treat “the Church” like an abstraction, as though it was not connected to ordinary, real people. But it is. Imagine you’ve been going to a parish on the west side of town for decades, maybe even having contributed to the building of the church itself, and suddenly you get told that, because of the evils done by Father X on the east side of town, your parish is now on the hook for hundreds of thousands of dollars, and that the parishioners are going to have to dig even deeper to buy their parish back. As a good Christian you feel for the victims of Father X, of course, but is this scenario really fair? And, I might add, this is not merely a hypothetical scenario: the diocese of Saint George’s in Newfoundland went bankrupt in just this way, with the people forced to “buy back” their parishes, precisely because of a finding of vicarious liability due to the actions of a single priest.
And let’s forget about parish buildings for a second. Suppose a clinic providing free health care is forced to close due to vicarious liability — is that fair to the patients, who now cannot get service? Suppose a school providing quality education to poorer children is forced to close due to vicarious liability — is that fair to them and their families? When the aforementioned diocese of Saint George’s was sued, there was also an attempt to sue the entire Roman Catholic Church in Canada as a whole, thereby putting every single Church institution at risk — not just parishes. There are currently attempts to sue the Pope himself for these sorts of cases. There is no question that if this were permitted to go forward, a key consequence would be that it wouldn’t only be the Pope and the Vatican that would have to pay if the case went against him, it would be the entire Catholic Church. It would be the ultimate “deep pockets” of vicarious liability ever known, linking every single Catholic institution — dioceses, parishes, religious orders, schools, hospitals — into one big pot. So, in other words, even if Father X was in southern California, it could be Mother of Mercy Hospital in Maine that is made to cough up. And given that the lawyers in such cases are often paid on a commission basis, getting a percentage of what they win, it is of course in their interest to sue, sue often, and sue as broadly as possible.
This fear of the loss of money — which, as I say, can be valid — can therefore put Church officials on a collision course with their better impulse to be compassionate. Imagine a bishop receives a complaint from a person about a priest. The compassionate response would be, at a minimum, to offer to pay for the person’s therapy — an offer that was often made. However, making that offer can be taken as an admission of guilt, and therefore opens the entire diocese to this vicarious liability scenario. Sometimes victims were asked to sign a paper promising not to sue, but again that comes across as cold and cover-up. The bottom line is that the only way to get out of this scenario is for people to be fair to each other and to trust each other. When the potential for big financial payouts starts to enter the picture, though, that kind of fairness and trust often (sadly) evaporates.
Personally, I think we must take the risks associated with compassion. Yeah, we might get nailed before the civil courts, but I think we’d earn even greater credit in the courts of Heaven. That doesn’t mean we need to be stupid about it, of course, as prudent management is one of the prime duties of a leader. But I do think we need to admit that, on an institutional level, the reason why vicarious liability has had the potential to wreak such havoc in our dioceses is because we used the civil system to centralise diocesan power. Under canon law, each parish is a separate corporation — accountable to the bishop, yes, but with its own finance council meant to manage its own property and patrimony. In theory, the civil law reality should be parallel, with each parish being a separate corporation — but in fact, on a North American basis, this is only true here in Quebec. Everywhere else, the bishop is a “corporation sole” who, in reality, owns all the parishes. This gives the bishop tremendous immediate power over the parishes, but at the cost of this increased exposed liability. So perhaps the real reason we are in such a pickle financially is not that we wanted to be rich, but that the central authorities wanted control — more control than our own Catholic tradition normally admits they should have.
Point 9: Pope Benedict is part of the solution, not part of the problem.
In the feeding frenzy surrounding the scandalous revelation of cases of sex abuse have been attempts to link them directly to Pope Benedict. There can be various reasons for this — in some cases, it is an attempt to bolster the vicarious liability arguments, in other cases is might just be because people don’t like the Pope and what he stands for — but it must be said that, in the case of child sexual abuse, these accusations against Pope Benedict simply don’t hold water. Indeed, the evidence presented has actually demonstrated his efforts to try and correct the situation.
Christopher Hitchens was one of the first to put Pope Benedict on trial in this way, in an article published on Slate.com (and picked up by Canada’s National Post). Leaving aside the exaggeration and hyperbole for a moment, Hitchens puts forward two major claims: a general claim that, as a Cardinal under John Paul II, he aided an abetted a cover-up of sexual abuse; and a specific claim that, while Archbishop of Munich, he knowingly and wrongfully handled the case of a specific abuser. However, a closer examination of the evidence shows that the Pope, prior to becoming Pope, was actually acting to solve the situation. Sean Murphy wrote a brilliant rebuttal on the web site of the Catholic Education Resource Center, entitled A Response to Christopher Hitchens’ The Great Catholic Coverup. This article sifts through the facts quite exhaustively (Murphy provides 80 footnotes) and demonstrates the exact opposite of what Hitchens claimed.
The next major accusation against the Pope had a similar attack vector to the Munich case, only this time the city was Milwaukee. Fr. Lawrence Murphy was an abuser, and the claim against the Pope was that he (supposedly) prevented Murphy from being kicked out of the priesthood. The New York Times even published the so-called evidence to prove this, except that the documents proved nothing of the kind. A full rebuttal by Father Raymond DeSouza was published by the National Review, and Jimmy Akin has been covering this extensively as well over at the National Catholic Register.
Point 10: This crisis highlights certain institutional reforms that are needed in the Catholic Church.
In my discussions with people on the question of clergy sex abuse, I have found that most people are angrier at the Church for how the abuse cases were handled by those in authority than about the abuse itself. That doesn’t mean they aren’t angry about the abuse — they are — but that their anger about the abuse tends to be directed at the abusers, not the Church. When it comes to how some abuse cases were mismanaged, however, the anger *is* directed at the Church or, more precisely, her leadership.
The thing is, I personally believe most bishops are actually pretty decent fellows trying to do an impossible job. There is no “bishop school” to prepare someone for the role apart from a two-week session in Rome that you only attend *after* being named a bishop. This implies that bishops learn to be bishops by essentially two means: by observing other bishops and getting their take on issues; and by the institutional support offered by the broader church, whether on a national or international level, and usually coming in the form of documents (such as the Code of Canon Law). Of course, there is also all the work and studies they did as priests, but that is more background preparation than specific training.
Regarding the first method, which essentially involves learning by observation, the key problem is any profession that relies on this finds it leads to a mushy middle of mediocrity. This was essentially Father Raymond de Souza’s point in his article Culture Change in the Church, published in the National Post. According to Father de Souza, it isn’t that the local bishops were bad, just that they weren’t good enough, and that there was a culture of mediocrity among them.
I think the Father de Souza makes an interesting point, but I also think it isn’t that simple. The Church tries to encourage something better than mediocrity by means of the second method, i.e. by things like the Code of Canon Law. These tools themselves, however, have room for improvement. Father de Souza, for example, mentions that the bishops were “not Catholic enough” because some supposedly failed to apply canon law (he quotes from canon 1395.2, which states that clergy sex abusers are “to be punished with just penalties, not excluding dismissal from the clerical state if the case so warrants”). In reality, though, canon law is not always helpful. Canon 1341 states that a religious superior (called an “ordinary”) is to take care “to initiate a judicial or administrative process to impose or declare penalties only after he has ascertained that fraternal correction or rebuke or other means of pastoral solicitude cannot sufficiently repair the scandal, restore justice, reform the offender.” This is exactly what most bishops actually did — they kept the scandal quiet, they gave assurances to the victims and sent the priests for therapy — they probably felt they were doing the right thing in NOT sending these priests to canonical trial. If canon law had been so good already, there would have not been a need for Pope John Paul II to issue his 2001 letter Sacramentorum Sanctitatis Tutela in the first place, which improved the rules on this question.
So some changes are in order, and on an institutional level. From what I can see, this needs to take certain concrete forms:
1. Transparency and openness need to be encouraged and supported. To the extent that a culture of secrecy exists within the Church, it must be abandoned. I have heard of several forms this could take, such as: fostering a responsible but free Catholic press; promoting accountability by requiring third-party audits of Catholic organizations; and implementing an ombudsman structure within Catholic institutions, particularly those that deal with the public. These are just a few, and I find them worth studying.
2. As mentioned previously, we need to take a look at how our financial power structures are set up. Yes, they may give us greater control in some cases, but if those same structures make it harder to live the Gospel, they have to change.
3. With regards to canon law, the simple reality is that the Catholic canon law presumes that there are three forms of authority in the structure of the Church: legislative, executive, and judicial. This is similar to the structure of a national government, which has a legislature, an executive, and a court system. Realistically, however, the way we work heavily favours executive authority over the legislative and judicial. Those holding executive power often have the capacity to dispense people from having to follow particular laws, and whether or not something goes to a penal trial is an executive decision, not a judicial one. In my view this easily creates an imbalance which, to be fair, is as unhealthy for the executive in question as it is for those subject to that authority. Corporations are structured in such a way that executives hold all the cards; the Church should be different, and if we are not we should not be shocked to discover that people treat us according to the structure we have given ourselves in practice if not on paper.
Conclusion
What can we conclude from all this sorry mess? I for one will never abandon the Catholic Church, because I truly believe she is, as Saint Paul wrote to Timothy, the “pillar and foundation of truth” (1 Timothy 3:15). The fact that some people did not live up to her teachings does not mean that those teachings aren’t true. At the same time, though, the human dimension of the Church is something that can always be made more perfect. Transparency and accountability are the order of the day, as well as the constant conversion needed to be true sons and daughters of the gospel. As Jesus himself said, “Everyone who does wrong hates the light and avoids it, for fear that his actions may be exposed. But the man who lives by the truth comes out into the light, so that it may be plainly seen that what he does is done in God.” (John 3: 20-21) We must all have the courage to come out into the light.
I’ve been getting a fair number of questions about the faith recently, through email in particular. As an experiment, I’ve set up a Q&A message forum to handle these questions (and, hopefully, answers):
The point is not to get into debate about this or that hot button topic, but simply to be a safe place to seek answers when they exist. Feel free to wander over, take a look, offer some commentary, or just ask a question.
Padre Roberto and I decided to head out to see (yet another) film this evening. I was a bit worried my presence was a distraction to him, but as he put it, “If I live alone I don’t get to see movies I want to see, because I don’t want to see them alone. With you here, I can go and see them!” Made sense to me.
We decided to see Up in the Air, the George Clooney film that people are talking about. It is about a guy whose job is to fire people — companies hire his firm to let people down easy (and in a way that covers their legal butts). He spends so much time on the road doing his job that he is barely ever home, a situation that he enjoys. He *likes* being in planes and airport lounges and hotel bars. Simply put, he is a travelling pro, who belives that the only way to be happy is to have no attachments to anything, not even people.
Of course, the vacuous nature of this rootless existence eventually catches up to him. His only goal in life is to acquire a particular level of frequent flyer miles, and he starts to wonder if this is enough. And he discovers it isn’t.
The end.
Well, there’s more. There are a number of funny (and sweet) moments that come from his interactions with a new employee in his firm who is young and perky and full of impractical ideas… he gets the job of showing her the ropes (to his dismay and hers). In some ways his rediscovery of idealism parallels her loss of hers. And there is his relationship with his family, which itself evolves.
But in the end, he is still left with nothing. The movie is about the deconstruction of an anti-hero. The possibility of some kind of redemption is held out at the end (quite literally, actually — he contemplates redeeming some travel points), but he does so with a lost look on his face. He starts out confident, he ends up lost. The end.
Quite depressing, if you ask me.
What is it about movies these days that they can’t have heroes? Maybe that’s why Avatar did so well. Not just the special effects, but the fact that the protagonist was himself changed and, in a way, redeemed. The nihilists were the *bad guys*.
At least Up in the Air faces the nihilism and shows us where it goes. I suppose that is valuable. And I’m sure there will be some who will say that it should be applauded as an aid to helping people become Nietzchean supermen, facing into the abyss. But personally, I think there is meaning to the world and to human existence. So I can’t celebrate tragedy, nor Up in the Air.
The sacristy of the Cathedral (where I live) was recently being renovated. This was a big deal for me, because it basically meant I didn’t have a regular place to say daily mass a few weeks. I usually get home from the office after the main church is shut down, so all I really have is the small sacristy oratory.
Curiously, my requests for masses that I receive over the Internet also began to slow down around the same time. I have only 2 in my backlog since the renovations began — and I’m off to take care of one of those requests as soon as I’m done with this blog post.
So my niece has been waiting with great anticipation for the new Twilight film, called “New Moon”, and now it is finally here. I had seen the first one, and while it was “ok” I had found it pretty cheesy, so I was wary about seeing the sequel. However, the various reviews I read of the film were actually quite positive. In general, the consensus was that the movie was better than the first installment of the series, and that the performances really let you get into the mindset of the main character Bella. Granted, she’s an angst-filled teenage girl, so I wasn’t sure it was a mindset I wanted to explore all that much, but I figured what the heck. After all, how bad could it be?
Oh my gosh. Pretty bad, as it turns out. After almost falling asleep after the first half hour (it was so slow) the movie became a complete caricature of itself. I mean, it was really painful. A friend sitting beside me whispered to himself aty one point, “This is torture!” And it was, it really was. Now I have seen bad cheesy movies in the past and thoroughly enjoyed them (Army of Darkness comes immediately to mind), but this film suffers from the fatal flaw that typically prevents a movie from elevating its cheesiness to an art form: it takes itself WAY to seriously.
As it turns out, we weren’t the only ones to think this: several times people in the theatre burst out laughing at moments that you can tell were not meant to be funny. And I must also confess that those of us who went to see the movie together wound up spending a considerable amount of time talking about the movie or, more accurately, our experience of the movie. We were merciless, and I laughed so hard I actually cried. Ah well, it was a good excuse for us to get together after and share a good scotch.
Today (Saturday) I once again had the beautiful opportunity to welcome a new member of the Christian family: baby Josef, the son of Terri and Fred (whose wedding I celebrated last year). It was like a spiritual reunion, a really joyful celebration of faith. And then, of course, there was the meal! The baptism in the early afternoon, so we got to the restaurant by about 2:30 pm. The promptly began eating… and eating… and eating! And I must confess, I have a weakness for Lebanese food, so I ate… and ate… and ate! I finally had to roll out of there about three hours later, and the main course hadn’t even yet arrived. You know, the Bible says that the Kingdom of God is like a banquet. Well, this new Christian, this new human that God has chosen in a special way for heaven, certainly gave us the occasion to have a taste of that abundance. Congrats to the family, and many thanks for inviting me to be a part of this special moment!
I always understood that when you die, your soul is immediately judged by God and are sent to hell or heaven. Some would be sent to purgatory for purification before entering eternal life.
However, Jesus did say that He would return to judge the living and the dead. Does this mean that those who have died must also wait for the return of Christ for the final judgment? Where does Purgatory come into this?
A few nuances are in order: the soul upon death is not so much judged by God as it experiences judgment. The two are not quite the same, as it is possible that it is the soul that judges itself.
Also, the souls are not “sent” anywhere so much as they begin to *experience* heaven, purgatory or hell.
Yes, Jesus will return to judge the living and the dead, but the word judgment is being used differently in this context. It refers first and foremost to a “rescue operation” by Jesus in which the dead are restored to bodily existence in the resurrection. However, since both evil and good people rise, a second stage of the process is the separation of the blessed and the damned, akin to the separation they had previously when they didn’t yet have bodies again.
As for purgatory, there is a general consensus that it will no longer exist at the general resurrection from the dead. Whether this is because it will be “empty” by that point, or simply that it won’t be necessary anymore, is a debated point.
Last year several parishes across the US gave out copies of Rediscovering Catholicism at their Christmas Masses. The impact was incredible. For too many people this is the only time they come to Church each year, and the book became a touchstone for renewal.
We are making twenty thousand copies of the book available for just $1 per copy this year. If you would like between 250 and 3,000 copies for your parish please contact Analise Ebaugh by 5pm EST on Monday, November 16 via email: analise@matthewkelly.org
A few years ago I accepted, somewhat at the last minute, to teach an introduction to theology course at Concordia University. Years later, one of the happy consequences of that decision was the opportunity I had today to preside the wedding of one of my students, Jennifer, now married to Michael.
Father Paul was away from Saint Brendan’s parish over the weekend and into today, so I had the honour of presiding the funeral and burial of Alexandre Beaudet, an elderly gentleman who lived most of his 89 years in that same parish. I remember seeing him regularly at mass, even though I didn’t know his name, so I was quite saddened when I visited his family at the funeral parlour. Still, as any priest can tell you, faith makes a huge difference. The atmosphere itself was very light, even joyful, during the whole funeral process (wake, mass, burial). It was the most fitting tribute to the man and his trust in the Lord Jesus.
I presided Stan and Mirella’s wedding a few years ago, and today I had the honour of baptising their first little one — baby Giulia! What a sweetie. The ceremony was followed by a delicious supper over at their place, and I must say I felt really at home. It is very special to be able to be part of my married couples’ lives in this way, and I already have an invitation to go back for a house blessing. And I have two more baptisms coming up in October as well! Yee haw!
I had the honour of presiding the wedding of these two this afternoon:
I had to arrive late for the reception due to a visit I needed to make to a funeral home, but I must say I was treated like royalty. Vic works in the restaurant business, so he knows how to make you feel right at a banquet, and it turns out some of the people who were at my table knew me from a previous pastoral assignment. We all had a really good time, and I wish my 41st couple well. We shall stay in touch!
Father Francis McKee, a brother priest here in Montreal, asked me to take over for him this morning for a study group he has been leading. This group has been going over the Catechism of the Catholic Church in a methodical way, in order to learn more about their faith. Father Francis likes for a priest to be there to help moderate the discussion, and I was honoured that he asked me to help him out. The section we were studying this morning had to do with our faith in God’s uniticy and almightiness, and that brought us into a tangent where we wound up comparing the Christian, Jewish and Islamic concepts of God.
For those interested in reading the Catechism on their own, I’m happy to provide a study plan I once developed which, if followed, will bit by bit get you through the Catechism in a year. Feel free to copy it and pass it along.
Well, we did it — the 6th annual “Father Tom married couples reunion” was a big success! It was a lot of work, and there were a few organizational mistakes on my part, but I am so grateful to all those who helped, as well as a special thank you to Corpus Christi parish and its pastor, Father Benoit Morrier, for the use of their facilities.
I’ve known Carol since we were twelve, and I had the honour of preaching at her wedding many moons ago.
One thing I love about this event is how the couples are becoming families. The little girl on the right was the first child to attend one of these reunions — in utero, mind you!
I just want to give a shout out to Lisa and Michael, and their little ones Jacob and Emma. Thanks for showing up so early to help set things up, and for staying late to help close things down.
Remember what I said about growing families? Congrats to (centre) Terri and Fred for little Josef, and to (far sides) George and Sonia for soon-to-be-seeing-the-light-of-day little Thomas. (Well, they haven’t actually yet decided to name him Thomas, but I’ve been encouraging them in that direction. )
We had a ton of food, and a good time was had by all. I’m looking forward to next year already, and by then my 40 couples will have grown to 43 (at least). I love all my couples, and pray for their happiness and success.
I spent most of this evening calling my couples, to remind them of the BBQ on the weekend and to see what they could bring (appetizer, salad, dessert). It looks like it will be a smaller group this year, but that’s ok — in many cases it is different people who are coming this time, so I’m delighted nonetheless. Look for pictures in an upcoming post!
I thought I’d share a few stats regarding my offer of mass intentions. To date, I have received 49 requested intentions, and have celebrated masses for almost all of them. Each mass intention request has been answered with an audio file (usually of the Eucharistic prayer) and a PDF mass card, suitable for printing.
While it is impossible to tell, of course, what the Holy Spirit is choosing to do with this ministry, if we really believe in the power of the Eucharist (and I do) then he must be doing something wonderful. I have received some beautiful emails from people who have requested masses, such as this one (posted with permission):
[Thanks to the mass intention] I feel the connection with Jesus at this most painful time of my life and I see the difference this connection makes in my life. I could not have done on my own and I would not have wanted it to be otherwise.
I have to admit, an email like that just makes my day. I do not know where the Holy Spirit will take this next, but I’m willing to wait on the Lord and see.
I spent a good part of this evening calling my married couples to invite them to my annual reunion. I enjoy this reunion, and even the process of organizing it, even if it takes time. It gives me a chance to catch up with people. I’ve been blessed to preside or preach at 40 weddings now. Given the babies that have since come, if only half show up I’ll have a good 50-60 people present.
The above title is a quote from Saint Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. Kinda jumps out at you, doesn’t it? And yet, this was a key line from today’s second reading.
I was preaching today, and I decided to tackle this reading head on. Click to listen.
Last term I gave a course called the Christian Understanding of God at Concordia University. One of the weeks was dedicated to a comparison between the Christian and Muslim perspectives on God, and it was very well received — the Muslim students in my class in particular said that I was able to accurately reflect their faith.
Fast forward to last May, when I was on retreat with the Recluses Missionnaires: the superior of the monastery heard about my course and asked if I could come in and give that particular lecture as part of their in-house continuing education. I accepted, and today was the day.
The sisters also invited the current retreatants staying at the monastery to attend, so there were about 25-30 people. The lecture was in French, and lasted about two hours (with a break in the middle). Judging from the reactions over coffee it was very well received. For those who know a bit of French, you can listen to the talks here (part 1, part 2). I apologize for the accent and the occasional grammatical errors.
Many thanks to the sisters for making me feel so welcome, and in particular for feeding me some lunch! Here’s hoping this first time won’t be the last.
I got together with an old friend today: Keith Donoghue, a buddy from high school and university who is now a financial planner. He’s invested some of his own money to investigate a tool called Bible-based money management seminars. It’s a USA-based program, so some of the financial terminology would need to be translated for Canadian users. It also is coming out of a Protestant background, so our meeting was more about going over the material to see how it can be used in a Catholic context. I’ll be going over the workbook, and Keith will in turn be looking at the Catholic concept of stewardship (which, from what I can see, has direct parallels in this program).
I’m proud of my friend Keith for wanting to take his talents and use then in the service of others in a way consistent with his beliefs. A number of people, including our current Pope, believe that our current economic problems stem from fundamental moral issues of honest and justice. I tend to agree, and so I’m glad to see a program that offers people a way to help live their economic life consistent with the gospel.
I had a particular joy this evening. Three years ago I had the chance to celebrate the marriage of Charlie Smith to his lovely wife Bernice. At that time, he had expressed his desire to enter into the Catholic Church – but then I got transferred from that parish, and it never got followed up.
Then, about a week ago, Bernice called to let me know that Charlie was in the hospital. The diagnosis: leukemia. The prognosis: not great. I visited with him, and the issue got raised once again. And yes, he still wanted to enter into full communion with the Catholic Church.
So, this evening, I brought my chrism oil, and the Holy Eucharist. We prayed, and he received the sacraments of initiation in his hospital bed.
A recent pastoral encounter has prompted me to write about a particular problem many people seem to suffer from: problem gambling. I’ve never been attracted to gambling myself, but I’ve known people who’ve gone down that road, eventually to their (possible) ruin.
Why do people gamble? Years ago I concluded that one main reason was for the fantasy value. Take lottery tickets, for example, which is a favourite form of gambling for lower and middle income persons. Spending $1 on a lottery ticket gives you much more than a chance at winning $1,000,000 (or more). It also gives you a chance to dream of what life might be like if you win. That’s what you are really buying: the opening of a door, even if only a tiny crack, to the dream of a “better” life.
Another reason, of course, if for the thrill. Winning, when it happens, is a rush. This second reason is more often found in casinos than in lottery tickets, where the games are structured to let you win just often enough so that you feel the thrill. Yes, in the long run the house always wins, but the money you spend is not just buying you a chance a making more: it is also buying you a chance to feel that rush.
A final reason, I think, is the seeking of control. A gambling game represents a kind of puzzle, something to “figure out” so as to have greater control than the other players (and basically outsmart them). How many gambling movie or TV plots, for example, involve the creation of some sort of mechanism to “beat the house”? So I think a lot of people gamble for the same reason they make jigsaw puzzles: to try and find the order in the chaos. For a person who feels that some part of his life is out of control, gambling may represent a way to feel potentially in control, a feeling nourished by the occasional win. After all, before “figuring out the system”, a lot of “experiments” must be done…
Know someone needing help in this area? Perhaps even yourself? If you live in the USA, the National Council on Problem Gambling may be a useful starting point for you. If you live in Canada, ProblemGambling.ca is a another starting point (with, I might add, a French section as well). Finally, here in Quebec, here is a French resource on Jeu excessif.
A couple of years ago I was visiting the island nation of Saint Lucia, where I got a chance to meet a young girl and chat a bit about her life: school, friends, that sort of thing. At one point she said something that made me realise that I really was in another culture. We were talking about her Catholic faith, and I wondered if it was hard to be a good Catholic in her culture. So she gave an example how being a person of faith made a difference: one of her schoolmates had done something to hurt her, and she explained that while she was tempted to light a devil candle against her, she didn’t because she knew Jesus would not want her to.
Devil candle? What the heck is that?
It turns out that Saint Lucia has its own native version of voodoo, and this traditional “religion” includes magical practices that allow you to curse someone. One of these practices is the lighting of what are basically cursed votive candles, calling upon evil forces to hurt the other person.
Wow. Good for her for not lighting one.
But this is also found closer to home. Last December I celebrated Christmas up north in Saint Augustine and Pakuashipi, the latter being an Innu reservation. The woman I visited with other there said how many people have abandoned Christianity and gone back to the traditional religion. The thing is, because the shaman not only has the power to bless, but also to curse, many of them now live in fear.
Fast forward to now: just recently I received a mass intention request. It was from a woman whose husband is having an affair. The mass intention was for the other woman.
In other words, the offended party is asking for blessings, not curses, for the other person. No devil candles, no shamanistic curses. No living in fear.
This is yet another reason why I love being Catholic. While we have a book of blessings, we simply don’t have a book of curses. We don’t believe in personal revenge of any sort, particularly the spiritual: that sort of justice belongs to God alone.
History is repeating itself: spammers are using my mass intention form to send me junk. It is just gibberish, which means it is probably coming from either Russia or China (as those nations use a non-Latin script that my form is translating into gibberish). It probably isn’t humans, but robot programs designed to post any old nonsense. I’m going to try and tweak my program to prevent this from happening further, but if my system does go down temporarily you know why.
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 ate 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.
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!
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.
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:
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.
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!
St. Brendan’s parish had a special fundraising luncheon this afternoon, so I went. The parish had access to a banquet hall, and the food was all-you-can-eat genuine homemade Italian pasta. WOW, was it good — I went back for seconds! There was also entertainment in the form of Calabrese dancers and Ukrainian dancers. The first troupe was more folk/family style, while the second you could tell were semi-professional. Both were very impressive and lots of fun. I left after three hours and I honestly had the impression the party was just getting started! What was nicest of all, mind you, was how the parishioners were so glad just to be together for something fun. Congrats to Father Paul and to Connie for a successful parish event.
I spent some time today chatting with a young man whose work includes digging graves. Unfortunately, yesterday there was a slight mishap. The cemetary map indicating where people were buried was badly marked, and the backhoe carved directly into a coffin buried only a year ago. He had to look in to assess the damage, and came face-to-face with a badly-decomposed body. It was like out of a horror film, and he was fairly shaken up.
What shook him up the most, though, was not the physical visual, but the mental realisation that one day he too will be in a grave. All he saw was death, with no hope. So his instinct was to talk to a priest. I pointed out to him that his work is not part of death, really, but part of eternal life. His job is a ministry to the families seeking to live the rites of mourning, rites that are very important to process well the tragedy of the loss of a loved one. If we bury people, it is not to put them out of sight, but as a testimony to our faith in the Ressurection.
We prayed, and I also gave him some tips on how to deal with the after-effects of the shock (e.g. exercise helps a lot). I’d ask you folks to pray for him too.
I’ve been helping out at the Chinese Catholic Mission recently, and last night was a Bible study meeting. I gave people a brief presentation on the life of Saint Paul, and then we dove into the question box to see what was there.
We also got into the question of the morality of file sharing and downloading. Again, I’d like to point people to something I myself have written, called Don’t Download that Song? I don’t give a definitive answer, but explore some of the issues involved.
I drove up to Camp Kinkora today, to offer mass at the Diocesan Liturgy Camp. There were over 60 campers there this year, from small kids to big teenagers (and the staff as well). I was recruited to go by a former parishioner of mine (shout-out to Fiona!) who welcome me warmly when I got there. We set things up, and after people had assembled I took the time to explain each element of the mass as it was being celebrated. The people seemed to appreciate it, and the kids were certainly paying attention, so I see this as a success.
Now I know there will be some who object to this practise of an “explained mass”, because on one level it does depart from the established rubrics. That being said, one of the explicit goals of the liturgical reform was the help people come to a more intelligent participation in the liturgy, and this necessarily involves some explanation. The role of “commentator” was established at one point: this was a person who explained the rites as they occurred, given that they often were actually happening in Latin, or in a soft voice (or both). Once the liturgy was translated and made more interactive, however, the commentator role tended to fade out (even if it is still implied in certain Vatican documents). Typically, a priest now acts as his own commentator, when this role is still considered useful.
Such as, at a diocesan liturgy camp.
“Commentator moments” are not mentioned in the rubrics, it is true, but that is because the Roman Missal is not fundamentally a book of catechesis. That being said, commentator moments are not forbidden either, and used appropriately can enrich the liturgical experience, both in the celebration itself and in the long-term for those attending.
This weekend I was at the Journey to the Father conference in Cornwall. I had never been to one of these conferences before, but I was asked to go as a guest speaker this time. So Friday I packed up the car with luggage, laptop, projector, and so on, and headed out to “Saint Raffles” parish.
The first person I met when I got there was Father James Mallon, a priest of the Archdiocese of Halifax and founder of the John Paul II media institute. We chatted a bit about his media work (you can imagine I am quite interested in that sort of thing), and then I headed to the rectory to put my things.
It turns out Father James was the main speaker at the conference this year, so he led the opening ceremonies Friday night. And then the rain came. And the thunder. And the lightning. And the funnel cloud warning. So we headed for shelter, splitting up the boys and girls into two locations. I was supposed to lead a rosary reflection for the whole group, so I started with the boys, telling them the story of how I came to love Marian devotion — but the rain was so bad there was no way I was going to get to the girls’ location. They had a backup plan, though, so it worked out, especially for me: as I was with “the boys”, the place was full of priests, so I got a chance to go to confession. Nothing like the sacrament of Reconciliation to get back on spiritual track.
Saturday morning I took it easy, taking in a presentation by Angèle Ragnier, the co-founder of Catholic Christian Outreach. Her talk was to the girls on how to be a “woman of God”. Of course, I was not particularly interested in this for myself (duh!) but it was interesting nonetheless.
My own talk was Saturday afternoon, on the topic “If God is good, why is there evil?” Unfortunately, it didn’t go as well as I would have liked. I used Powerpoint heavily in my presentation, but unfortunately it was so bright outdoors where we were that (even under the tent) it was hard to see the screens. They also weren’t very well positioned, so the overall effect was a bit of a downer. My second session was a general Catholic Q&A, which went well (albeit with a smaller group).
There was a special dinner that evening in a nearby school for all the invited guests and speakers (such as myself), so I got a chance to kid around with people at my table while enjoying a delicious meal. I discovered that they organizers had also set up an adoration chapel and the volunteers were coming around the clock to ensure an all-day-all-night presence before the Blessed Sacrament, interceding for those taking part in the conference. No wonder I was feeling the effects of grace so powerfully!
This adoration chapel also drew a most interesting person with whom I had a most delightful discussion: a local Anglican gentleman, who (while not being Catholic) supported the conference 100%. We had an excellent chat about the recent state of affairs in the Anglican Communion (which is really in dire straits), and I came to realize that the debate among the Anglicans is really a microcosm of the debate within the pluralistic religious universe in which we now live: IT’S ALL ABOUT SALVATION. What is salvation? How do we attain to this salvation? What is the place of Jesus/the Bible/the sacraments in this story of salvation? Anyway, our discussion was wide-ranging, and I think I’ll be putting up a few posts on the Adventus site eventually to deal with some these questions.
Saturday evening concluded with a beautiful time of public adoration before the Blessed Sacrament, again led by Father James Mallon, and then sitting in a field hearing LOTS of confessions. I got to bed around midnight.
Sunday the mass was presided by Archbishop Marcel Gervais, with the preacher being Bishop Paul-André Durocher. As it turns out, his homily also dealt with the problem of evil, so at least the kids got a good double-dose of the topic. I know both bishops quite well, and we had a nice chat before I packed up and headed to Ottawa to visit the folks.
It was a good weekend for me. I was feeling a little discouraged (it had been a tough week at work), so this conference brought me back to what it’s all about.
No, it’s not the basilica in Rome, it’s a friendly nickname for Peter’s Cape Cod in Sainte-Anne-de-Bellevue. I headed over there today for lunch with a priest friend of mine, to share fellowship and to talk about some new responsibilities being added to the scope of his priestly ministry — and to see how I’ll be able to help him out, something I am looking forward to. The restaurant was his idea, but since it’s Friday I appreciate having a fish menu.
I was chatting with Terrel Joseph today. He’s the webmaster of the Montreal Challenge Movement, and we were discussing some of the issues and opportunities the movement is facing.
One thing Terrel mentioned is that it is getting harder and harder to find a place to hold a retreat weekend. Now to be honest, this is a problem I’ve seen coming for a LONG time, particularly when the diocese decided to abandon financing the Youth Impact Centre a few years ago. Because the schools are now non-denominational, the movement usually only has access to private Catholic schools — and they are now getting tougher on their requirements for overnight events (i.e. by default they don’t allow them anymore).
I am often asked by young people if taking drugs (usually a reference to smoking marijuana) is a sin. Because it is “natural”, they say, why not use it? After all, didn’t God put it there?
I am reminded of an old saying: there is no such thing as a poison, only a poisonous dose. Anything can be good, if used for its proper end and in moderation. An example of a good use for a a drug would be the use of cocaine in microsurgery: doctors will often swab a cocaine solution on the area to prevent bleeding, as one of the effects of cocaine is the constriction of blood vessels. That good use, however, does not mean that it is ok to shove it up your nose, or (worse) to smoke it in even more concentrated forms.
Maybe if Adam and Eve had not sinned, some sort of recreational drug use might have been ok, a bit like the way we use caffeine in the form of tea or coffee. After all, in a non-fallen world, there would have been no danger of misuse. On the other hand, maybe there would *not* have recreational drug use — because after all, for some drugs the recreational use may always be a misuse. Cocaine, for example, does exist in nature, but in a very diluted form in coca leaves. The powdered form, on the other hand, is an artificial concentrate of the natural active ingredient — and since it is the dose that makes the poison, this kind of drug is probably always poison.
With regards to marijuana, this “artificial” versus “natural” distinction also holds, even if the drug comes straight from a plant. This is because non-wild marijuana plants — the kind grown for drug use — are actually the result of artificial breeding efforts to try and produce more and more potent concentrations of the drug within the plant itself. Yeah, it grows in the dirt, but that doesn’t mean it is natural. We made it, and we made it to be something that nature never intended.
Perhaps there are medical uses for marijuana — it does seem to be an appetite stimulant (the famous “munchies”), and so some recommend it for patients who have otherwise lost the hunger reflex due to their illness. But it also carries its risks, risks that increase with its toxicity. What concerns me most is how the use of marijuana can be related to mental illness. Not everyone who smokes pot has a psychotic break, but a lot of people who suffer from psychotic episodes had them triggered by marijuana.
This is a serious problem. Imagine, for example, if coffee could be consumed normally by 99% of the population, but for 1% of the population it would cause the onset of serious mental illnesses like schizophrenia, paranoia or depression. Would it really be responsible to promote the consumption of coffee as though nothing was there, when in fact we knew that an important minority would fall seriously (and possibly irreversibly) ill because of it? At least we should be frank about the risks, and not be surprised if social controls were put in place around it.
Well, pot is like that. Apart from the fact that it is criminal to possess marijuana (and therefore should not be done, out of respect for the law), pot simply should not be smoked. It is not natural, and in its toxicity it can exacerbate (or even provoke) other conditions that have serious long-term consequences — for the user, and for those around him.
I will never support the legalization of marijuana. I have nothing against God for having thought up this particular plant, as I am sure it has its place in his original beautiful plan of creation. But the legalization of marijuana is basically the 99% saying they want their “freedom” to such an extent that they don’t give a damn about the 1% who will suffer. I expect better from people, and from the society in which I live.
Some friends of mine, parishioners at my former parish of St. Thomas à Becket, will be hosting The Marriage Course in their home in the West Island (click on the link for more information). Every married couple I know of that has taken this course has found it very enriching. John and Natalie can only host 3 or 4 couples, so if anyone out there is interested I recommend they contact them as soon as possible. As for me, I intend to promote this course among those couples that I have married — anything I can do to promote their happiness I will do!
), but I did want to offer a few thoughts on the scandal/crisis currently gripping the Church. This post may be updated from time to time as my own reflection on the question develops.
