Lord, give us the grace to be "useful to the Gospel"

What applies to individuals can apply just as easily to institutions and organizations. The more that Catholic universities or hospitals mute their religious identity, the more that Catholic social ministries weaken their religious character, the less “Catholic” they are, the less useful to the Gospel they become.

From an address by Archbishop Chaput to the Catholic Social Workers National Association, in June 2011, and published on First Things. And in case you've missed it, Archbishop Chaput was named today the next bishop of Philadelphia.

"Bought with a Price"

His Excellency, Paul Loverde, Bishop of Arlington, Virginia, has published an excellent pastoral letter on pornography. He deals with what pornography is, he demolishes the false arguments that try to justify its use, he details the ravages to persons and to families that is causes, and he lists several concrete things that we can do to push back against its insinuating corruption. I really hope this finds its way onto marriage prep reading lists. Please read the whole thing.

Maniple manipulation to W4, where I stumbled on it.

"Deacon Reader" Summer Reading 6

Chapter 3 - The Deacon and Gaudium et Spes (Fr. McPartlan)

This essay argues that "We must try... to relate the diaconate... to some of the major principles of Vatican II's teaching," and especially to the main themes of the Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, Gaudium et Spes.

The first major principle he notes, in the second paragraph and following, is Church unity (my p. 57). Charity, he notes, serves unity, as does the authentic kerygma of the Good News, along with reaching out to the marginalized (probably envisioning both ecumenism and social justice) and defending the rights of the weak. Then he has a long section on the relationship between Church and the world, and the relevance of this to the diaconate (which we'll come back to in a moment), before listing other major principles at the end (by way of demonstrating what he's been trying to say). The other major principles he notes (my p. 73) are (2) the Church as servant, (3) the central role of the College of Bishops (and the implications of this for the meaning of the Sacrament of Holy Orders), (4) that "good liturgy animates the apostolate [of the laity]," and (5) solidarity.

Now, as principles for the Church, these five are quite solid. The challenge of the essay is in the part about the relationship of Church and world.

He wants to argue that the Church and the world should be united in the manner of "seamlessness" (p. 65, beginning of the section, "Deacons and the New Ecclesial Embrace of the World"). He says, "Everything she [the Church] does is for the salvation of the world, of which she is thoroughly a part" (p. 60, just after the long quote from JP2 at the Assisi ecumenical meeting in 2002).

Now, there's an obviously sense in which this is true: the Church has never not understood herself to be both "in the world" and "for the world." Even the most isolated hermit serves the world by praying and sacrificing. And every attempt to deny that Christ established the Church for the whole world (e.g., Manicheaism in the 4th-5th c., Waldensians et al in the 12th c., Jansenism in the 18th-19th c.) has been roundly condemned.

But at the same time, the Church has also always understood that she is supposed to be "not of the world." The world is fallen. Original sin exists. Personal sin exists. This is the universal and unchanging basis for admitting that we need a Savior. By baptism, we die in a very real sense, in the order of fallen nature, so that we can live the new life of Christ. The life of struggling to carry the Cross is, at the most basic, completely different from the life of not struggling to carry the Cross.

It's not clear in this essay that this "seamlessness" argument includes both of these terms. The "in and for the world" part predominates; the conversion part is hard to see. At best, it's implicitly present in what is preached, and how that preaching might be received by the modern world.

In the section on the "Deacon and the New Ecclesial Embrace..." (my p. 65ff), he states that deacons should be signs of this seamless solidarity; present in the world, somewhat like what the worker-priest movement tried in the 1950's; a kind of link between altar and world (he doesn't mention that both priests and laity do this also, each in different ways from deacons); a reader of the signs of the times and an applier of the Gospel to them.

If he means all this as "in and for the world" only, without the expectation of conversion to Christ, then all this is pretty obviously flawed. Without the demand of conversion, solidarity degenerates into mere niceness; presence gives way to autonomy and moral relativism; the Eucharistic altar stands well apart from the world; and the signs of the times can never say anything truly human, but only fads and whims as culture drifts.

I have a hard time thinking this is what Fr. McPartlan really meant. So, we must read in explicitly the need for conversion. Then I think his argument is pretty good, although still imprecise. With the demand for conversion to Christ (even if that demand is not made explicit in every act), then these things make more sense. Solidarity with my neighbor is a way of being in Christ, together; presence brings the grace of Christ into a situation; the Eucharistic altar calls everyone to truth and beauty; and the signs of the times can speak essential human needs, where Mercy is most hungered for.

But, I still note that this is only descriptive, not definitive. I argue that the set of {solidarity, presence, linking to the altar, and responding to true need} is what deacons do, not because of ordination, but because of baptism. These four aspects are general modes of discipleship. We have to dig deeper if we want to see in what particular, unique manner they are modes of diaconal ministry.

For example, in his opening list of principles, he notes the special role of the College of Bishops, and therefore of ordained ministry, and therefore (one infers) of the particular share in the apostolic ministry each of the lower grades (priests and deacons) receives. So how does the sacred power to proclaim the Gospel by word and action, in liturgy and in ministry, give a unique shape or character to the deacon's particular discipleship? He says it should be "symbolic of their [deacons'] relationships and activities in the world at large" (my p. 76, third-to-last paragraph). But none of our sacraments are mere symbols; so, symbolic in what sacramental sense?

Likewise, the principle that good liturgy animates the apostolate clearly means something different for deacons than for priests, since our liturgical roles are distinct. So, what exactly does it mean for deacons? How can we, in our liturgical ministry, be in solidarity with the laity, or with the whole world; or be present to them; or link them to the Eucharist; or (help) respond to their actual needs for grace and mercy?

"Deacon Reader" Summer Reading 5

Fr. Enright finishes up his survey of the history of the diaconate with a very quick look at the medieval period (roughly, 700 to 1500), the Council of Trent, and Vatican II.

In keeping with what we've already said about continuity in the most basic idea of what the diaconate is sacramentally, note especially the first quote from St. Isidore of Seville and the last quote from St. Thomas (p. 20 and 22 in my edition). Even though the diaconate was more and more treated as "transitional" throughout this period, we do know that it (and the minor orders) were flourishing. St. Isidore gives it a very significant degree of respect, and St. Thomas's theology (although shaped by his very heavy concentration on the priesthood and confection of the Eucharist, typical of the time) articulates a clear "sacred power" to proclaim the Gospel, both liturgically and, I think, ministerially, which the handing over of the Book of the Gospels in the ordination rite signifies. Nothing here seems to indicate an order in decline or being marginalized in the Church, despite the relative lack of "permanent" deacons.

The Council of Trent considered, but did not in the end enact, a revival of the permanency of the diaconate. It stated unambiguously that deacons belong to major orders, but it did not give any clear definition of the deacon's sacramental identity.

In the 400 years between Trent and Vatican II, something significant changed, though, and this article (and the next, really), don't manage to identify that change. I don't know the reasons why, but two things happened: (1) the minor orders essentially disappeared from parish life; and (2) the norms of celibacy became much stricter. Those two things are probably related, in fact, but I haven't seen any research into how. What this means, though, is that the context of the "renewal" of the diaconate in the 20th century was significantly different from the context in the 16th or 17th century, in the wake of Trent.

One way to think about the renewed diaconate is that all the functions of the minor orders, which (at least in one theory) were unpacked out of the original diaconate, have now been repacked back into it. In a sense, it's useful to think this way, because we now look at deacons much the same way the medieval Church looked at the minor orders: ordained men, pillars of the Church as it were, mostly married, mostly not employed by the Church, taking on clear, necessary, but subordinate roles in liturgy, parish life (catechist, sacristan, etc etc), and witness in the world. (Theologically, of course, there's a big difference between major and minor orders, which we're skipping over here.)

The cost of thinking in these terms is usually the loss of clarity about the diaconate's "necessity" (as Fr. Enright puts it in his conclusion, last paragraph, on my p. 26), in three senses. First, (also because of our cultural attitudes,) we lose the sense that something is missing when Mass is celebrated without a deacon ("low" Mass, though we don't call it that anymore). Second, we lose the importance of the transitional diaconate - which, as we noted before, doesn't actually seem to be a "decline" of the diaconate in the patristic or medieval Church - even to the extent of suggesting doing away with it. (One of my biggest beefs with Deacon Ditewig is his foolish promoting of this very bad idea.) Third, we lose clarity about the deacon's "sacred power" of proclaiming the Gospel in liturgy and in ministry, and therefore about the deacon's most basic identity and share of the apostolic mission.

If we can hold on to the attractiveness of this vocation (in terms of the loose parallel to the way the minor orders used to flourish?) and at the same time hold on to a robust theological precision about identity, sacred power, and double usage (permanent and transitional), then I think we will be close to embracing the "necessity... to the Church and her mission" of the diaconate that Fr. Enright lauds in his conclusion. Which is devoutly to be hoped, prayed, and worked for.

Homily - Sunday, July 3, 2011

This weekend, as we’re celebrating the Lord’s Day, we also celebrate Independence Day, our country’s birthday. I want to share with all of you my prayers and good wishes for a safe and joyful holiday weekend. We can and should love our country, and especially the very high ideals of life, liberty, equality, and happiness that we stand for at our best. Those ideals are very good, and we’re very grateful to God for blessing us with them.

And yet, even given those ideals that bind us together, it’s still pretty hard to be a Christian these days. Our witness isn’t valued very much, is it? Often, it seems like most of our friends and neighbors just laugh at all the things that we as Catholics know are most important – things like our respect for tradition; respect for the dignity of each human person; marriage; justice; the Bible; the Cross; Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament; even life itself. Every day, if we want to live up to our high calling as followers of Christ, we have to fight for it. Picking up our Cross to follow Him means carrying a double weight – the weight of the Cross, and the burden of scorn and rejection.

So why does Jesus tell us, “My yoke is easy, and my burden light?” Doesn’t He know how hard it us for us to die to ourselves, and to die to the world, in order to love Him?

Of course He knows. He knows exactly what kind of a place the world is, because He lived here, as one of us. He knows exactly how much it costs to be faithful to God the Father, because He suffered here, just like we do. Being faithful to the Father cost Him everything! And if we follow Him, we will find that it costs us everything, too. There’s no such thing as giving yourself to God a little bit.

For those who are learned and wise and powerful in the world, this kind of total commitment, the commitment of the Cross, is crazy. That’s why they laugh at us – they think we are fools. To them, we’re like little children – because we’re afraid of the wrong things, and we love the wrong things.

Because the world puts its hope and its trust in things, not God, worldly people are most afraid of loss. They fear losing their possessions and their “lifestyle” so much that they’ll destroy lives and marriages to keep them. They fear being taken advantage of, especially by the poor, and so they give very little to worthy charities. They fear the loss of their reputation so much that they can’t trust their co-workers, even their own families. Beyond all hope, they fear dying. This kind of fear is totally irrational. It is why so many rich people are so unhappy. They can’t take pleasure in the good things they have, and they can’t even be happy for the good things others have, because they’re so afraid of losing these goods.

On the other side of the same coin, what the world most loves is self. The great and the wise of the world preach constantly that the only way to be happy is to indulge yourself. We can’t turn on the TV, or the radio, or the Internet, or open a newspaper or a magazine, without being bombarded with this message: Eat more! Buy more! Have more! Flaunt more! Make people envy you – then you’ll be happy. Never deny yourself even a small pleasure – then you’ll be happy.

But we know this is all false. It’s the wrong fear, and the wrong love, and it’s a very heavy burden for those who can’t put it down.

Jesus tell us, “My yoke is easy, and my burden light.” We who carry the Cross, we know that we should fear only God. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” – not the false wisdom of the world, but the wisdom of faith. It’s fear of God that teaches us how to let go of our stuff, how to give it away, how to share it generously with those who need it even more than we do. Fear of God teaches us that everything we have is His gift to us. In our own charity to others, we recognize some little part of God’s infinite and perfect love for each of us. We see that He is so good to us, so generous, so just. Therefore we gain faith and hope also – for how could He not give more to those who give freely from His gift?

Therefore the other side of this coin is love of neighbor. The Cross is a light and easy burden to carry, because we carry it together. Love is always a sharing, a communion between people, and between us and God, in Jesus Christ. That’s why love of self makes people bitter and mean; it doesn’t go anywhere; it only festers. We learn this first in our family, and then also in our Church. Our unity here, at the foot of this altar, is a great gift of God, and so we desire something of that unity to exist also in our city and our country.

That’s why the Cross is a much lighter burden than the world. Where the fear of loss prevails, there can be no true hope. But where the fear of God shines from our hearts, hope follows easily, and the invitation to put down the heavy burden of selfishness, and follow Christ. Where the love of self prevails, there can be no true charity. But where the love of neighbor shines from our hearts, true charity follows easily, and the invitation to put down the heavy burden of selfishness, and follow Christ.

So when the world laughs at us for our commitment to the Cross, don’t be afraid. Don’t get discouraged. Don’t give up. The world needs our witness to the liberty and the happiness of a holy life. Our country needs our faith most of all, more than anything else we can give. That’s why Jesus says, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”