Category Archives: things of God

A Welcome Challenge from Canterbury

In his 2009 address at the Wille­brands Sym­po­sium in Rome, Rowan Williams, Arch­bishop of Can­ter­bury, con­fronts the wide­spread impres­sion that ecu­meni­cal dia­logue —par­tic­u­larly that between the Churches of Rome and Eng­land — has stalled, gone stale, or even reached a dead end. He expresses sin­cere hope that this is not the case, and empha­sizes the

I am a Catholic

I am a Catholic. As a Catholic in the 21st cen­tury I feel an extra­or­di­nary pres­sure to have a well-defined iden­tity, an iden­tity that is easy to label so I can tell my fel­low Catholics exactly what sort of Catholic I am. I feel the bur­den of need­ing to know exactly where I stand on

The God That Failed

Our God lies in the tomb this day. He has been cru­elly tor­tured and mur­dered. His fol­low­ers, those to whom he had revealed his glory and power through­out three long years full of won­ders and truth, have scat­tered and fled, hud­dled together in fear, all hope drained from them. Yet as Chris­tians we believe, not that

Who do the Irish think they are?

I dis­like spe­cial treat­ment. Of course, I like it when I am the recip­i­ent of some sort of excep­tional cod­dling, but on prin­ci­ple I have to object to it. And I am sure that most of you read­ers will agree. Who hasn’t seen spoiled chil­dren in retail stores, scream­ing and throw­ing a fit until they get what­ever they want? It is awful. It shouldn’t hap­pen, and we all know why it does: the par­ents are fail­ing to be suf­fi­ciently firm with their chil­dren. I’m not going to launch into a dis­ser­ta­tion on how I think chil­dren should be raised—that’s a dif­fer­ent arti­cle, one I’ll write after I have some expe­ri­ence in that area. All I am try­ing to do here is estab­lish that it is despi­ca­ble when a child of any age whines until he gets his way (oh yes, and girls do this, too), and what is even more dis­turb­ing is the par­ents who allow and encour­age this sort of behaviour.

Watching Doubt

It was just over an hour into Doubt (2008) before I caught one. The movie is set in 1964, and the snip­pets of Mass seem care­fully accu­rate, both in tone and in form. Period dress, and espe­cially cler­i­cal man­ners, are spot-on. Yet when Philip Sey­mour Hoffman’s char­ac­ter opens his bre­viary in the gar­den, it is clearly the cur­rent edi­tion in Eng­lish, the same edi­tion I have sit­ting next to me, an edi­tion which was first printed in — wait for it — 1975. Ahh! Is it sad that notic­ing that makes me feel more alive than any­thing has in weeks?

An image made too real

Two young priests I was in sem­i­nary with — and the only iden­ti­cal twin priests I know — have been bravely blog­ging about their expe­ri­ence of min­is­te­r­ial priest­hood since 2007. Frs. Joel and Ben­jamin Sem­ber, priests of the Dio­cese of Green Bay, share a joint blog where they post their weekly hom­i­lies (they also have pod­casts) and write reflec­tive and often insight­ful occa­sional pieces. It is one of my favorite Catholic blogs.

In a recent series, posted between 25 Feb­ru­ary 2010 and 1 March 2010, Fr. Ben­jamin attempted a lengthy, com­pre­hen­sive, and defin­i­tive cat­e­ch­esis in response to a ques­tion he had fielded from a mem­ber of his young flock, regard­ing the Catholic Church’s con­tin­ued reser­va­tion of ordained priestly min­istry to men only. It is an inter­est­ing read, and he cer­tainly doesn’t hold back in his ambi­tious cov­er­age of all the tra­di­tional talk­ing points.

Radicalized

Three months ago, if some­one had told me I would get all fired up about liturgy in the Roman Rite of the Catholic Church, I would have had to give them a wry smile and shake my head at them. I had been there, done that, I would have said. I burnt out, and I no longer had the emo­tional energy to get entan­gled in that morass.

And then I started my Chris­t­ian Liturgy course. When speak­ing of activists (and ter­ror­ists), the term “rad­i­cal­ized” is often used: some­thing — some event, or some encounter, or some expe­ri­ence, or some increase of inequal­ity, some­thing — pushes an indi­vid­ual over the line between resent­ment and the will­ing­ness to do some­thing about it. By the end of the sec­ond class meet­ing, I could tell that this course was going to be my rad­i­cal­iz­ing experience.

whining and name-calling

I am struck by the irony that in the same week that Catholics fall over them­selves to cheer Arch­bishop Tim­o­thy Dolan’s blog post to the New York Times, accus­ing the paper of (the hor­ror!) anti-Catholicism, that these same Catholics are quick to share head­lines like “Jihadist gun­man kills Amer­i­can Troops in Fort Hood” with all

The Second Joyful Mystery: The Visitation

Eager­ness. That sin­gle word sums up this entire story for me, as well as the cen­tral chal­lenge that it sparks in my soul every time I reflect upon this mys­tery. Mary learns that her female rela­tion Eliz­a­beth is expect­ing a child, despite a life­time of shame­ful “bar­ren­ness” for her and her hus­band. Mary is eager

The First Joyful Mystery: The Annunciation

Mary didn’t plan to be the Mother of God. We are given no hint in the Gospels at what she did plan. It may have been an ordi­nary life, full of ordi­nary dreams: hus­band, chil­dren, home — dreams no less mean­ing­ful for being ordi­nary. But then a winged Ital­ian shows up one morn­ing, bran­dish­ing a tulip,