I was so inspired yesterday listening to a talk by Elizabeth Johnson (very well known contemporary theologian) on "Friends of God and Prophets: Toward an Inclusive Community" (click here to read the talk yourself!) that I wanted to share a couple of the points she made. (By the way, she also has a book titled Friends of God and Prophets.)

The first point that really struck me was the idea that the Church has been gifted with both office and charism. Office is what ensures right order within the Church, offering stability through the three-fold ministry of leading, teaching, and sanctifying, a participation in Christ's own ministry as priest, prophet, and king. While we talk about office in reference to those holding positions in the institutional Church, do not forget that each of us were also anointed priest, prophet, and king at our baptisms, marking our own vocation and participation in Christ's ministry. In terms of charism, Johnson explains that

the role of charism, freely given in unpredictable ways by the Spirit, is to break through routine, apathy, and even corruption with a renewed sense of the gospel for different times and places. This impulse has historically led to the rise of religious orders, new forms of spirituality, and movements for reform, among other events. To use Hildegard of Bingen's image, these help to keep the sap flowing strong and green in the branches, refreshing the institutional church grown gray with bureaucracy, meanness, or fear.

Johnson reminds us that both of these, office and charism, are gifts in the Church, but that they also exist in a certain tension with each other. I would like to suggest that this dynamic plays out not only on a global level in the Church, but also on a local level in our own parishes. Certain individuals in the parish are gifted with the ability to bring a sense of stability and continuity to the parish. Certainly the parish staff is typically focused more on the leading, teaching, and sanctyifying ministries within the parish in the day to day life of the parish. There is also a need and a place, however, for charism in the parish. Hopefully the staff is open to this gift as well as the gift of office, but ultimately I believe this gift must come from the community itself. We need individuals in the parish who are open to the Spirit and renew us in our sense of mission and inspire us as a community to breathe new life into our ministries. We need individuals who, in Johnson's words, break us out of our apathy and call us to read the gospel in a new way. Each of us has that potential, if we are open to the calling of the spirit.

The second point Johnson makes in her talk is her definition of what it means to be a friend of God and a prophet--in short, a saint! She reminds us that we are all saints (literally holy ones) and that the word was initially used in Christianity to describe the living community, not those who have died. She also reminds us that to be a saint is not a matter of being a good and moral person, but is simply a statment of the fact that we participate in God's holiness. She emphasizes this fact, stating

let me underscore a key point: this holiness is not primarily an ethical matter, being holy as being innocent of sin or morally perfect or engaged in pious practices or something earned by one's own merits. Rather, it is a consecration of the very being of this people due to God's free initiative. They participate in God's own holiness, a deep identity that flows out into responsibility to bear witness in the world, in accord with the loving kindness and faithfulness of God that now marks their own being.

The fact that we ARE holy hopefully leads us to be better people, to be a friend of God and a prophet through the grace of the Holy Spirit dwelling within each of us. Johnson explains that

to be a friend means to be freely joined in a mutual relationship marked by deep affection, joy, trust, and support in adversity; knowing and letting oneself be known in an intimacy that flows into common activities; as in Abraham, "friend of God"(Jas 2:23); as in Jesus' pledge, "No longer do I call you servants, but ... friends" (Jn 15:15).

What an incredible image of our relationship with God! She goes on to add that

to be a prophet means to be called to comfort and to criticize in God's name because, being a friend, your heart loves what God loves, namely this world, and you want it to flourish. When harm comes to what you love, prophets speak truth to power about injustice, thus creating possibilities of resistance and resurrection.

The line that actually caught my attention and my imagination was the idea that being a prophet means being called to comfort. I am very familiar with the idea of being a prophetic voice in the sense of speaking for those who have no voice or being called to challenge the systems of oppression in the world in which we live. I have never given any thought to the idea that to be a prophet is also to be called to comfort. Yet isn't one of the most famous lines (thanks to Handel) in Isaiah, "Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God" (Is. 40:1)? Certainly there is a tradition of the prophets railing against all that is wrong in the world and in their communities, but there is an equally strong tradition of the prophets offering the people reassurance of God's love, mercy, and faithfulness and reassurance that the community would survive and ultimately prevail against adversity. How do we fulfil our prophetic role in the world in terms of being a voice of hope?

The headlines on the webpage of The Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel once again delve into the issues of sexual abuse and lawsuits in the archdiocese. Immediately below that story is a story on the rather grim financial future of the archdiocese. We are in a time in our Church and our world where we need prophets who will criticize, but who will also comfort. We need the gift of charism, calling us to "break through routine, apathy, and even corruption with a renewed sense of the gospel" so that we can "help to keep the sap flowing strong and green in the branches, refreshing the institutional church grown gray with bureaucracy, meanness, or fear." More than ever it seems we are being called to be the community of saints right now, our hearts loving what God loves, fulfilling our vocation as friends of God and prophets.

I met with one of our prayer groups recently because questions had arisen in their group about heaven, purgatory, and hell. Since this topic has come up many times in various conversations I have had with people, I decided it might be a good topic to address here!

One of the things that I love about being Catholic is our understanding of the communion of saints. In the very simplest terms, the communion of saints is our understanding that we are in relationship with all of those who have gone before us and all of those who will come after us. We believe that in death life is not ended, it is only changed. Likewise our relationships with those who have died do not end, they change. All of God's people are saints, those living and those dead. A canonized saint is simply someone the Catholic Church has definitively proclaimed to be with God in heaven. It is very important to note that the Church has never definitively proclaimed anyone to be in hell.

One of the immediate difficulties in talking about what happens after death (besides the obvious fact that we have not yet died) is that our existence after death is no longer one of time and space. Due to the fact that our existence here is in time and space, it is absolutely impossible for us to think without thinking in terms of time and space. Hence the end of my last paragraph talked about being "in heaven" or "in hell" as if they were places to which we go. They are not places so much as states of existence. Heaven implies an existence in union with God and hell implies a lack of union with God.

So much of what we say about heaven and hell is speculative. Some say hell is the absence of God. I have a hard time accepting that because I believe God is always present to us and loving us no matter what. I do believe that hell might be our own inability to recognize and accept God's presence and love. I have also speculated that if there is some need in death to recognize the ways in which we have hurt people (see the section on purgatory below), there are people for whom that process might last an eternity because the painful impact of their actions goes on for generations. Hitler comes to mind, as the Holocaust still causes us a great deal of pain to this day, and I believe that it always will. Of course with that speculation, I have fallen into the trap of conceiving of hell in terms of time. Hans Urs von Balthasar is one of my favorite theologians on this subject. In his book, Dare We Hope That All Men Are Saved?, he suggests that perhaps no one will ultimately end up in hell because of God's universal salvific will. If God wills the salvation of all people (1 Tim. 2:3-4), can God's will really be ultimately frustrated? Nonetheless von Balthasar accepts hell as a reality, but he very wisely cautions that it is a reality each of us must hold up before ourselves as we judge our own way of living and being in the world. It is not a reality for us to hold up before others, placing ourselves in the position of God to judge the possibility of another's eternal damnation (another trap I fell into with my speculation about Hitler!).

Many people ask me if we still believe in purgatory (a funny question, since I cannot actually tell you what you believe!). Yes, the Church does still teach the concept of purgatory. We do not (and technically the official teaching of the Church never did) teach the concept of limbo. Babies who die are with God. What kind of God would we believe in, if we did not credit God with having at least as much compassion and mercy as we ourselves have? God's compassion and mercy far outweighs our own abilities in that regard! Purgatory is part of our doctrine. It is not, however, a time and space concept as we so often have heard it talked about, as if we get 10 years in purgatory (which for some reason seems to be some sort of mini-hell with flames and torments in many people's imaginations), but might get out in 7 with good behavior and a lot of prayers from those still living. Purgatory simply refers to the process of purgation, the purifying that occurs in death that allows us to stand face to face with our God. The process that "burns away" all that still holds us back from complete and total union with God. In that regard, it still makes a lot of sense to pray for those in purgatory in that we are praying for those who are going through that process. In a conversation with our youth minister not to long ago, she told me that for her the concept of purgatory involved letting go of the things that were still holding us back from God, the attachments, desires, and addictions that we choose over God in our day to day lives. The continuity between the life we live now and the concept of purgatory is that we can do much of that "letting go" in this life, but that which we are unable to let go of in this life still must be released in order for us to be in union with God after death.

The theologian Karl Rahner talks about standing before God and having the love of God burn through us like fire (cf. TI 1:311-312). The analogy I always like to give is to think of a time when you did something you knew was very wrong and your parents found out, but instead of yelling at you or punishing you, they just reacted by loving you. The self-realization of both your own short-coming and the love that forgives that short-coming is very humbling and purifying, and it can burn like fire. I think that purgatory involves a coming to terms with and accepting God's absolutely unconditional love for us. The purification process is a recognizing and accepting who we were in our lives, with all of the failings and short-comings that life involved and all of the ways in which we hurt others, and then accepting that God sees all of that about us and still loves us beyond our wildest imaginings. To me the concept of purgatory is not a frightening concept, but a concept that embodies God's love and mercy.

There is a buzz in the air about the new exhibit coming to the Milwaukee Public Museum, the Body Worlds Exhibit. I was initially surprised to hear the question asked on NPR of whether the museum expected there to be protesters, as apparently there have been when the exhibit has been in other places. It never occurred to me that such an exhibit would be controversial. The Archdiocese of Milwaukee has put out a reflection paper that lays out some of the issues and concerns that have arisen, such as are the bodies being treated with respect, was proper consent given for the use of the bodies, etc. (Note that the Archdiocesan statement is not "pro" or "con" attending the exhibit; it seems to be meant in a more reflective manner.)

Having read the statement, I can understand why some people have concerns, but I also think it gives those of us not in medical fields an incredible opportunity to reflect on the wonder of the way we have been created. Our bodies are truly phenomenal, and learning more about them should only make us reflect more deeply upon and be more in awe of the God who created us. One of the stated intentions of the exhibit is to make people realize how important their bodies are and how important it is to treat them well. This theme fits in well with our understanding that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit and part of the Body of Christ. Our bodies are holy and sacramental, and as such, we should be extraordinarily aware of them.

There was a time in Christianity when the body was somewhat denigrated and separated from the spiritual life. Today there has been a turn away from a dualistic worldview that separates the material and the spiritual toward a new understanding that we are embodied spirits. We experience what it means to be spiritual in and through these bodies that are our means of expressing who we are in the world and in relationship to one another. That is what it means for a body to be sacramental; your body is a sacrament of yourself, the tangible presence of you. We have been given an incredible gift in being embodied that is too often simply taken for granted. Having only read about the exhibit, I am already more aware of the complexity and beauty of every movement I make, being able to breathe or to eat, feeling my heart beat, the way our senses work together to allow us to experience the world around us, etc. Regardless of whether one attends the exhibit or not, it should be a powerful reminder to us to be very thankful for the fact that we are embodied.

I want to draw your attention to one of the links I have put on this blog, and that is The Vicar's Corner. The Vicar's Corner is a blog where my friend Matt posts his homilies each week. Some of you may remember Matt from when he and Fr. Ed came and did a parish mission for us here. I would strongly encourage you all to click on that link and enjoy some of Matt's homilies.

I was profoundly struck by a passage in Matt's Christmas homily:

Love closes distances. It breaks down barriers and separations because the lover seeks the beloved and strives to make contact in any way possible. This is what we celebrate at Christmas. Our creating God, our divine lover is so intent on getting our attention, so focused on winning us over that he is willing to take on our humanity. Matthew T. Allman, C.Ss.R., The Vicar's Corner

Enough said - read the homily!

Merry Christmas and Happy Epiphany! This Sunday we will celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany, a celebration of the revelation of God to the world in and through Jesus Christ. The Greek word epiphaneia literally means "to show forth." Sunday we celebrate God showing or manifesting Godself in and to the world. As the Body of Christ, we are called to continue to show forth God's presence in our world.

I have been reflecting a lot on what image of what it means to be Catholic Christians we project to the world, and I admit, I am a bit disturbed by what I see. The image I often see is too often one of harsh judgment and vitriolic outrage. Sometimes it is compounded by ignorance and a total lack of compassion for others who might think differently from us or come from circumstances with which we have never had to struggle. Too often I see people who seem to be very angry rather than loving and hospitable. Suddenly there is a mentality of "defending our faith" in the "culture wars" that is militant and seems to breed hostility, bitterness, and resentment. It seems to me that we live in a very angry culture. If you ever saw the movie Crash, it did an excellent job of portraying the way in which people seem to be so angry today, and it takes so little for that anger to brim over into the world. I fall into the trap myself where I find myself suddenly boiling mad about the littlest thing, until I stop and ask myself, exactly what am I so angry about? As Christians we should ideally be a counter witness to this anger and hostility. As St. Paul tells us,

Do not be conquered by evil but conquer evil with good. Rom. 12:21

Whatever happened to witnessing to the love of Christ? Whatever happened to the focus on feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and sheltering the homeless? Why is Christmas suddenly about whether or not a Nativity is set up in the town square instead of being about those of us who are Christian incarnating the love of God for ALL people? Whatever happened to the season of peace on earth and goodwill to all humankind, not just those who think like us and believe like us? The Epiphany is not the celebration of God's revelation to believers; the Epiphany is the celebration of the revelation of God's love to all of humanity. If only we could put as much energy into loving our neighbors (and remember in the story of the Good Samaritan, the neighbor is defined precisely as those we don't agree with) as we do into the so-called fight to defend Christianity, maybe we wouldn't have to work so hard at defense. Maybe we would engender an openness in people to the force in our lives that enables us to be loving and good and open to all people. I was listening to a song by Steve Camp this morning, and I think his refrain sums it up perfectly,

Don't tell them Jesus loves them till your ready to love them too;
Till your heart breaks from the sorrow and the pain they're going through.
With a life full of compassion, may we do what we must do;
Don't tell them Jesus loves them till your read to love them too.

Christmas is the feast of the incarnation. In Christmas we do celebrate the nativity or birth of Christ, but what we are celebrating is not simply Jesus "birthday," the way we celebrate our own birthdays. We are celebrating the mystery of Emmanuel, God-with-us, God revealed in time and space. Each week in the creed we say "by the power of the Holy Spirit he was born of the Virgin Mary and became man," and the instructions say we are supposed to bow at those words, but on Christmas, the instructions say to genuflect. Why? Because those words proclaim the incarnation, that God became human. So what is the incarnation all about?

St. Athanasius, one of the great fathers and theologians of the Church, tells us:

The Son of God became human so that we might become God.

Obviously we do not become God in the way that God is God, but we become God-like, we are divinized. The eastern Christian tradition has done a much better job of reminding people of this fact than our western tradtion has done, as the west has tended to focus much more on the incarnation as a remedy for sin (it is both). The eastern tradition has a beautiful Greek word, theopoesis or theosis, literally to make divine, to describe this process. The word is usually translated as divinization or deification. We partake in the divine nature. St. Irenaeus puts it another way:

For this is why the Word became man, and the Son of God became the Son of man: so that man, by entering into communion with the Word and thus receiving divine sonship, might become a son of God.

In the liturgy itself, when the priest pours a bit of water into the wine, he says:

By the mystery of this water and wine may we come to share in the divinity of Christ, who humbeled himself to share in our humanity.

We do not usually here him say this because he says it in a low voice to himself, but it proclaims the meaning of the incarnation - that God and humanity are united in and through the person of Christ.

Another axiom of our faith tells us that what Christ is by nature, we are by adoption. We cannot understand who Jesus is as Son of God without understanding our own identity and calling as children of God. "Son of God" does not appear in the Bible for the first time in reference to Jesus. In the Hebrew Scriptures, Israel is the Son of God (e.g., see Exodus 4:22-23). Likewise King David is referred to as a Son of God, as are other leaders and prophets. The phrase indicates both intimacy with God and the desire/need for obedience to God, a willingness to do God's will. Jesus is perfectly the Son of God in this way because he is both human and divine, and through our union with him and our sharing in his divinity, we are brought into that relationship with God as well. What he is by nature, we are by adoption. We become children of God, divinized and empowered to do the will of God by that intimate, loving relationship. Christmas is not simply a celebration of who Jesus is; it is a celebration of who we are.

Hope is a lost virtue in our world. The world has become such a cynical place. All too often it seems people have very little hope that the world's biggest problems can actually be solved - war, poverty, illness, etc. A lack of hope then seems to translate itself into apathy and inaction. After all, if we don't really believe things will get better, why expend much effort trying to make things better? And yet, I can't imagine a world more in need of hope, and so I was delighted to see that Pope Benedict's second encyclical of his papacy, Spe Salvi, is on hope. His first encyclical, by the way, was on love (Deus Caritas Est). What better time of year to talk about hope then in Advent, a time of hopeful waiting for the coming of Christ? Pope Benedict notes that hope is supposed to be the mark of a Christian! We should be people of hope in such a way that actually makes people notice that fact about us!

Pope Benedict reminds us that our greatest hope, the hope which enables all others, is our hope of salvation. As Catholics we do not believe that our salvation is "simply a given," but rather

that we have been given hope, trustworthy hope, by virtue of which we can face our present.

We believe and hope in the promise of salvation that comes to us through our union with God in the incarnation, in the person of Jesus Christ. However, as Pope Benedict points out, the encounter with God that engenders our hope cannot simply be "informative" but must also be "performative," in other words, it must change our lives. As one of my professors was fond of saying, God will not save us without our yes. God values our freedom that much. Our yes is not simply a verbal or intellectual yes, but it is an embodied yes, a living out of our faith, and that yes is not complete until the moment of our death. At the same time, that yes is always empowered by God's grace, so we don't have to rely on ourselves, but rather, so long as we are open to God (even unconsciously as in those people who are open to Love, Truth, Goodness, Beauty, etc.), God can effect that yes within us. So while salvation is not a given, we have a hope in salvation that St. Paul assures us will not disappoint (Rom 5:5). The Psalms continuously repeat that our hope is in the Lord. The word hope appears in the Psalms 32 times. St. Paul uses the word 13 times in the Letter to the Romans alone! Pope Benedict points out that frequently in Scripture hope is used interchangeably with faith. In order to have hope, one must believe, one must have faith. Through our faith in God, we will find ourselves being signs of hope in our cynical world. And so in this Advent season:

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (Rom 15:3).

Very rarely do we see realistic painting or statue of Mary in which she is obviously pregnant. One of the few that I have seen in my life, a painting of Mary as a poor, young, pregnant Jewish woman moved me so profoundly that I began searching for a similar image. While I have found several now, my favorite is one that a good friend of mine, who knew of my search, painted for me. That image hangs in my bedroom and is my favorite image of Mary, especially during Advent. Advent is a time when we should focus on the image of Mary as a model for our own faith, and for me, that image is exemplified by her pregnancy.

If you have children, think back to what it was like to be waiting for your first child to be born, or if you do not have children, imagine what it would be like to wait for the birth of your child. I would like to highlight four elements of Mary's experience that give us a model of what it means to be faithful disciples during Advent, because like Mary we are all called to conceive and bear Christ in our lives and in the world.

1. Expectation, anticipation, impatience

Waiting for a child to be born involves expectation and anticipation. There is a certain excitement in the air about this miracle that is about to take place. Do we await Christmas with that same sense of expectation and excitement? Children can teach us a lot about this attitude towards Christmas as well! Having known many relatives and friends who have been pregnant, there is also a certain impatience in that last month of pregnancy. Do we experience that same sense of urgency, of desire for the coming of Christ in the world? We should be a little impatient for the coming of Christmas and for the coming of Christ in our lives and in the world. Children can also teach us a lot about this element of Advent!

2. Preparation – making a space

When a baby is expected, space must be prepared. The woman carrying the child literally makes space in her own body, but space is also made in the home. A nursery is usually prepared. Diapers, bottles, pacifiers, clothes, any number of safety devices, etc., are purchased and set up in preparation for the child's arrival. Advent is a time when we make a space for Christ in our lives, in our hearts, and in our homes.

3. Joy and hope

The birth of a child should bring joy and hope. Have you ever noticed that when people see a baby, they tend to smile? We tend to be filled with joy at seeing a baby. Joy should fill our hearts at the thought of God's love for us made incarnate in Christ. Are we a sign of that joy to others in our lives? When we encounter strangers during the Advent season, do we exude that joyfulness? A baby also represents hope in both the absolute innocence of an infant and the wide open possibilities for the future that lie before that child. Parents immediately have hopes and dreams for their children, often from the very moment they know they are expecting. Advent is a time to think about our hopes and dreams for the world, seeing all of the possibilities the future holds. Advent is a time when we hope and pray for peace on earth.

4. Awe

In addition to smiling at a baby, have you ever noticed how adults will just stand around and watch a baby, absolutely fascinated by this tiny child who is usually just lying there? Have you ever noticed how parents can spend countless minutes just gazing at their sleeping baby? Pregnancy and the birth of a baby are awe inspiring events. Babies inspire a sense of awe within us. The presence of the divine breaking into this world in a tiny baby should literally bring us to our knees. There is a song we sing every Christmas called, "Who Would Send a Baby?" by Mary Kay Beall that always brings tears to my eyes at the way in which God blessed us to give us this experience of Christ as a baby. The words of the song ask,

Who would send a baby to heal a world in pain?
Who would send a baby, a tiny child?
When the world is crying for the promised one, who would send his only son?

Who would send a baby to light the world with love?
Who would send a baby, a tiny child?
When the world is hoping for the promised one, who would send his only son?

Who would choose a manger to cradle a king?
Who would send angels to sing?
Who would make a star in the sky above to shine on the gift of his infinite love?

Who would send a baby to bless the world with peace?
Who would send a baby, a tiny child?
When the world is yearning for the promised one, who would send a baby, who would send his only begotten son?

Do we experience the same sense of expectation, preparation, joy, hope and awe in Advent? Do we carry Christ within in such a way that allows us to be moved and overwhelmed by the mystery of God’s love for us, a love that has us anticipating what happens next in our lives, a love that we make a space for in the busy-ness of our lives, a love that has us flooded by joy and hope, a love that brings us to our knees in awe?

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote on the November Bishops' General Assembly and referred to the expected publication of the Faithful Citizenship document. I was deeply disappointed (though unfortunately not surprised) by the way this document was portrayed in the media and have heard people summarize it based on those reports as saying those who vote democrat are putting their salvation in jeopardy (i.e., are going to you know where!). I would strongly urge Catholics to read the statement itself rather than news reports about the statement! If you find that statement too long (43pp.), at least read the summary version, which is only ten pages long! Not only did the document not say any such thing, it actually says the opposite:

In this statement, we bishops do not intend to tell Catholics for whom or against whom to vote.

The statement does add that

as Catholics, we should be guided more by our moral convictions than by our attachment to a political party or interest group. When necessary, our participation should help transform the party to which we belong; we should not let the party transform us in such a way that we neglect or deny fundamental moral truths.

What the statement does do is raise concerns that all Catholics should be concerned about when they consider the candidates who are running. The statement reminds us that

responsible citizenship is a virtue, and participation in political life is a moral obligation.

The bishops recognize that no candidate or party fully shares the Church's viewpoint, but emphasize that rather than being discouraged by that fact, we should be motivated to work within our parties, contact our elected officials, and even run for office ourselves! Nonetheless, the statement makes it clear that we must always oppose direct assaults on human life and dignity, including (but not limited to) abortion, euthanasia, genocide, torture, racism, cloning, etc. (all of which are examples the bishops give in the statement). The bishops maintain that as Catholics

we revere the lives of children in the womb, the lives of persons dying in war and from starvation, and indeed the lives of all human beings as children of God.

The bishops point out two temptations that distort the Church's teaching on the defense of life: first to make "no ethical distinction between the kinds of issues involving human life and dignity," and second "the misuse of these necessary moral distinctions as a way of dismissing or ignoring other serious threats to human life and dignity." The bishops clarify that while

a Catholic cannot vote for a candidate who takes a position in favor of an intrinsic evil, such as abortion or racism, if the voter's intent is to support that position. . . . There may be times when a Catholic who rejects a candidate's unacceptable position may decide to vote for that candidate for other morally grave reasons.

They go on to add

as Catholics we are not single-issue voters. A candidate's position on a single issue is not sufficient to guarantee a voter's support. Yet a candidate's position on a single issue that involves an intrinsic evil, such as support for legal abortion or the promotion of racism, may legitimately lead a voter to disqualify a candidate from receiving support.

The statement concludes by looking specifically at the issues that are involved in the seven key themes of Catholic social teaching: the right to life and the dignity of the human person; the call to family, community, and participation; our rights and responsibilities; the option for the poor and vulnerable; the dignity of work and the rights of workers; solidarity; and care for God's creation. They state that

these themes from Catholic social teaching provide a moral framework that does not easily fit ideologies of "right" or "left," "liberal" or "conservative," or the platform of any political party. They are not partisan or sectarian, but reflect fundamental ethical principles that are common to all people.

The bishops recognize that voting in our culture presents us with some very complex dilemmas, and for that reason they offer this statement to help Catholics inform their conscience so that they can ultimately vote in accordance with that conscience. (By the way, just because I quoted extensively from the statement does NOT mean that you should not read the statement yourself!!)

PRAY FOR PEACE!!! Tomorrow is the beginning of an international peace conference in Annapolis, MD to work towards peace between the Israelis and Palestinians. Cardinal George, the President of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops is asking all Catholics to pray for peace in the Holy Land. In his letter, the Cardinal eloquently states:

This call to prayer has a special timeliness this week, but the path to a just peace will be long and will stretch beyond the peace conference itself. In the weeks and months ahead may we persevere in prayer for a just peace for Israelis, Palestinians and the whole region.

This past weekend, I watched the movie Schindler's List. Now I realize that I am about 14 years behind everyone else in seeing this movie, but that did not lessen the profound impact it made on me. I had not seen it because I knew that I would be deeply disturbed and saddened by watching it, and so everytime I was in the video store and considered renting it, I would put it off. Now in the days of renting online, I had it on my online list of movies so that it would eventually just be mailed to me, and I knew once it was that I would in fact watch it. Needless to say, I was deeply disturbed and saddened by watching the film. The weight of carrying around the renewed knowledge of the evil of which humanity is capable throughout the weekend was horrible. And yet I believe in the importance of being reminded of that fact from time to time. It is dangerous to forget what we are capable of perpetrating or simply ignoring when we do not want to face evil being done in our midst.

A couple of things struck me in the movie. One was the hatred of the general population for the Jewish people - yelling names at them, throwing dirt at them or spitting on them, things that are violent without necessarily doing actual physical harm. I was struck by the way that the general population cooperated in dehumanizing a group of people. Even those who did not actively persecute them simpley ignored their suffering and did not protest their treatment. Obviously there were exceptions who did protest, many at the cost of their own lives. But it made me wonder, who do we dehumanize and demonize in our society? The immigrants? The Muslims? The poor who live in our inner cities? To what extent do we ignore their suffering? To what extent are we culpable for the conditions in which we live?

Oskar Schindler was not an extraordinary person, which is actually what makes the movie so profound. He was a person like you and me, living his life, not wanting any strife or conflict, trying to get along and even enjoy life besides, trying to get ahead. He doesn't start out with the idea that he is going to save Jewish people from the concentration camps. He actually starts out using them as cheap labor so that he can make a bigger profit. He is almost forced to do the good thing, the right thing because he is more and more confronted with an evil that he cannot ignore. He cannot simply stand by and do nothing and be able to live with himself. One of the most moving scenes in the movie, with one of the most important insights for me, is the scene at the end when he realizes that he could have saved more, he could have done more. This scene speaks to all of us - we can always do more. Short of actually sacrificing our lives, we have never gotten to the point where we have done all we can do to fight injustice, violence, racism, poverty, and all of the other forms evil takes in our world. We can always do more. On the flip side of that sentiment is the fact that we have to begin by doing something. If all of the people living in the Nazi occupied countries had done something to help, to protest, how much of a difference might it have made? We can start with something small, but we must start. That is the moral imperative of our religious belief, of being disciples of Jesus Christ. I want to leave you with a quote from theologian Elizabeth Johnson in her book Consider Jesus:

There is a traditional axiom which claims that to live a good ethical life one must "do good and avoid evil." The emphasis shifts today, slightly but very dramatically, to make us realize that this is not enough. In fact, it can end up being a shirking of responsibility. For in the light of the compassion of God revealed in Jesus, we must "do good and resist evil." There is a call to the Christian conscience here not to hide our face from evil, not to walk around it, or pretend it is not there; but to face its massiveness in spite of our feelings of powerlessness or insignificance and to become involved in transforming it.

I have a special prayer request this week, that all of you prayer for the United States bishops as they hold annual Fall General Assembly from Nov. 12th-15th. The bishops' agenda this year is varied discussing everything from the curriculum for high school students to the Faithful Citizenship document that is published every presidential election year, from the most recent reports on the abuse scandal in the Church to the revision of the guidelines for music at mass.

One of the unique items on the agenda is that the bishops will vote on a stewardship brochure directed toward teens. This brochure invites the teens to share their time, talent, and treasure with the Church. How wonderful it is to see the Church specifically reaching out to our incredibly talented teenagers and working to incorporate their gifts into the life of the community. It is also important for teens to understand that being Christian involves more than just showing up on Sundays (a point all of us can probably be reminded of from time to time). In their press release, the USCCB states that

The text encourages teens to pray, especially with Scripture, to make an inventory of their gifts and to rejoice in the ways they are already using their talents, adding that “even the smallest act of kindness can bring joy and relief to another.” It also thanks them for the gifts of energy, idealism and zeal that they already share with the Church, and tells them to not be afraid of asking the Church to “do more.” “Stewardship” the document says, “is the call for all of us to do more, to be more and to love more!”

I especially like the call for teens not to just do for the Church, but to challenge the Church to do more!

A difficult topic under discussion this year is the draft for the Faithful Citizenship document this election year. The bishops consider this topic so important that for the first time they are bringing the document for a discussion and vote by the entire assembly, whereas in the past the document has been written and approved by a committee. The specific focus of the document this year will be the formation of conscience, a factor that will be included in the title itself, "Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship: A Call to Political Responsibility." The document will again emphasize that our political responsibility goes beyond casting our votes on election day. The document has to walk the fine line between political partisanship in a day and age where none of the candidates represent a consistently "Catholic" position. While upholding the preeminence of issues that involve the direct ending of human life, such as abortion, active euthanasia, and embryonic stem cell research, the bishops also emphasize that those issues do not excuse us from being concerned about issues such as war, torture, and economic justice. The press release from the USCCB on the draft document states that

the draft affirms the importance of participation in political life. It explains the necessity of opposing actions that are intrinsically wrong, such as abortion and euthanasia, and affirms the obligation to promote the common good by combating such threats to human life and dignity as hunger, poverty, racism, unjust immigration policies, and unjust war.

As "faithful citizens" who are democrats, republicans, and independents, it is our job to call the candidates in these upcoming elections to a higher standard and challenge some of the presuppositions of our respective parties. Only in this way will we stand a chance of really having an impact on the political landscape of our country.

Today is the Feast of All Saints! The word "saint" simply means holy or holy one and comes from the Latin sanctus (holy), the root of which is sancire (to make sacred). In biblical times a saint was simply a Christian, one who is holy, who is called to be holy. The New American Bible usually translates this word, (h)agios as "holy ones" but other translations use the word "saints" following the Latin translation which was sanctum or sancti. When the term is used in the Bible, it more frequently refers to those living than those who have died. All of us are saints.

One of the true gifts of our Catholic faith is the teaching on the communion of saints, a belief that we express each week in the creed. The communion of saints simply expresses the fact that as Christian community, we are in relationship with all those who have gone before us and all those who will come after us. Our relationships transcend time and space. Hopefully we experience this intuitively when someone we love dies. Our relationship with that loved one does not end at death. The relationship is transformed, but does not end. When I am explaining the communion of saints to those who are becoming Catholic, I start with our relationships to the living. If I am struggling with something, I might ask my friends and family to pray for me. Because our relationships do not end at death, when a loved one dies, I can continue to ask him/her to pray for me. Taking it a step further, I have a grandma who died before I was born. While I have never met her, I feel as if I know her because of the stories that have been told about her over the years. I ask her to pray for me in the same way I ask the grandparents I knew to pray for me. The canonized saints are like that. They are Christians who have gone before us as models of what it means to be a disciple of Christ. While we have never met them, we come to know them through the stories that our family, the Church, passes down about them. We form relationships to them through those stories and traditions. We ask them to pray for us in the same way we ask our family and friends to pray for us. We do not technically "pray to them," we ask them to pray to God with us. Also implied in that statement is that we do not ask them to pray to God instead of us praying to God ourselves, but rather we ask them to join their prayers to God to our prayers to God. The fact that a saint is canonized simply means that the Church has definitively declared the person to be in heaven with God. It is important to note that the Church has never definitively declared anyone to be in hell.

All Saints Day is a great day to reflect on those in our lives who have been examples of what it means to be a Christian and to thank God for the gift of those people in our lives. It is also a great day to reflect on what it means to each of us to be a saint. Do we make the world a holier place through our words and deeds? Do people experience something of God's love when they encounter us? Do we image Christ for others? Ultimately that is what a saint, canonized or not, is and is called to be, an image of Christ in the world. Have a blessed All Saints!

I was deeply disturbed and distressed recently by an email I received. Many times people forward emails with jokes or prayers. The forwarded email I received was an attempt to foster hatred and prejudice. The email protested a stamp reissued (it was first issued in 2001) by the US Postal Service that honors the Islamic holidays of Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha. The USPS created this stamp as part of their holiday series, which also includes stamps for Christmas, Hannukah, and Kwanza. In the press release, the USPS states that "On these days, Muslims wish each other 'eid mubarak', the phrase featured in calligraphy on the stamp, which translates as 'blessed festival' or 'may your religious holiday be blessed'."

Eid al-Fitr is the celebration at the end of Ramadan, the holy month of fasting to commemorate the revelation of the Qu'ran to Mohammad. During this month, from dawn to dusk each day Muslims fast from food, drink, medicine, smoking, and sensual pleasure. They "break their fast" in the evening after sundown, often with family and friends. More than just external observances, the month is meant to be a time of reflection and a time when the differences of wealth and status between people are minimized. Eid al-Fitr, or the feast of fast breaking, is the close of Ramadan and is a joyful time when people travel to be with families and send cards to one another. The celebration begins with a special prayer service.

Eid al-Adha, or the Great Feast, commemorates Abraham's obedience and his willingness to sacrifice his son to God (note that in the Islamic tradition, it is Ishmael that Abraham is going to sacrifice rather than Isaac as in our own tradition). This feast is celebrated each year during the hajj or pilgrimage to Mecca that most Muslims are expected to make at least once in their lifetime, but all Muslims, even those not on pilgrimage in Mecca, celebrate this feast. Families purchase an animal, such as a goat to be sacrificed and butchered in a ritual manner (similar to the way in which the Jewish people butcher meat in a kosher manner). The meat is then divided up and a portion is given to the needy, a portion is shared with one's neighbors, and a portion is kept for the family's feast.

Both of the feasts are remarkable celebrations, and all of us (including/especially those of us who are Christians) would do well to learn from the discipline and the charity of the Muslim people. To protest the fact that the post office issued a stamp commemorating these Islamic holidays (which in the email is incorrectly listed as a Christmas stamp) is petty and ignorant. It also ignores the fact that according to the US State Department there are 1209 mosques in the US and 2 million Muslims who are associated with mosques. The Second Vatican Council stated that

The Church has also a high regard for the Muslims. They worship God, who is one, living and subsistent, merciful and almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth, who has also spoken to men. They strive to submit themselves without reserve to the hidden decrees of God, just as Abraham submitted himself to God's plan, to whose faith Muslims eagerly link their own. Although not acknowledging him as God, they venerate Jesus as a prophet, his virgin Mother they also honor, and even at times devoutly invoke. Further, they await the day of judgment and the reward of God following the resurrection of the dead. For this reason they highly esteem an upright life and worship God, especially by way of prayer, alms-deeds and fasting. - Nostra Aetate 3

What made the email even worse was that it listed a litany of offenses the "Muslims" have supposedly committed, including various bombings culminating with Sept. 11th. The Muslims did not commit any of those bombings; terrorists did. That the terrorists claim to be Muslim is similar to the way in which the Ku Klux Klan claims to be Christian and justifies their acts of terror and violence with quotes from the Bible. Any religion can be corrupted to be used for violent purposes; that does not make the religion itself responsible for those violent acts. Muslims are not terrorists. The fact that there are terrorists who are Muslim is no different than the fact that there have been people who claim to be "Christian" and "pro-life" and have then bombed abortion clinics. The actions of the terrorists are not condoned or supported by mainstream US Muslims, and to suggest that all Muslims are responsible for those atrocious acts is prejudice and the antithesis of what it means to be Christian.

This Sunday's second reading from 2 Timothy tells us:

All Scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for refutation, for correction, and for training in righteousness, so that one who belongs to God may be competent, equipped for every good work. (3:16-17)

The Catholic Church teaches that Scripture is the Word of God. The many words in Scripture are seen to be a revelation of the one Word of God who was fully revealed in Jesus Christ. For that reason, “the Church has always venerated the Scriptures as she venerates the Lord’s Body. She never ceases to present to the faithful the bread of life, taken from the one table of God’s Word and Christ’s Body (CCC, 103).” In liturgy we understand Christ to be present in four ways: in the Eucharist, in the assembly gathered, in the person of the priest, and in the Word of God proclaimed.

Without in anyway detracting from the prominence of Scripture and its status as the inspired Word of God, the Catholic Church also acknowledges that Scripture was written by human beings. Scripture is inspired, but not in the sense that God dictated the exact words to the human author. Rather God worked through the human authors, using their own experiences, their imaginations and the literary forms common in their time. When we wrestle with Scripture, it is important to know something about the author and the time period within which that piece of Scripture was written. An understanding of the author’s perspective helps us discern what is revealed Truth in the Scriptures, e.g. God created the world, and what is historically conditioned, e.g., women must cover their heads in the assembly.

It is also important to understand the way Scripture developed over time, from an oral tradition to a collection of writings to a conscious choice about what was to be included and excluded in what we call the canon of Scripture. People often do not realize that the Old Testament in the Bible used by the Catholic and Orthodox Churches includes 46 books and the one used by Protestants and the Jewish people has 39 books. The reason for the difference is that the early Christian church chose to use the Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures which is called the Septuagint. When the Jewish people determined their canon (the list of official books in their Scripture), they limited their list to those books that were originally written in Hebrew and excluded the books that were originally written in Greek. After the Reformation, the Protestant churches chose to use the same canon as the Jewish people for their Old Testament. The books that are in the Orthodox and Catholic Bible, but not in the others are: 1 & 2 Maccabees, Baruch, Judith, Tobit, The Wisdom of Solomon, and Ecclesiasticus, as well as additions to the books Esther and Daniel. As Catholics we believe that the Holy Spirit has guided the development of Scripture so that God is revealed in the stories initially told, in what was recorded and in what was selected to be in the canon to make up what we call the Bible.

The final thought I want to share on Scripture is that as Catholics we understand Scripture to have many layers and levels of meaning. It has such depth because it is the inspired Word of God. Thus, one may read the same passage from Scripture at two different points in one’s life and get two different meanings out of it. Scripture has the ability to speak to all people in all ages. It is good to have a practice of reading a little bit out of Scripture on a regular basis. One can explore the readings we hear at church more deeply or one can explore some of the treasures within Scripture that are not included in the lectionary, and thus less well known. Pick something that interests you initially (I don’t recommend that you start with Leviticus!). If you find yourself getting lost or losing interest, try another part of the Bible or seek help with the section you are trying to understand, but don’t give up on reading the Bible altogether. There is, in fact, a world of wisdom to be found within God’s Word.

I wrote on immigration for the bulletin this Sunday, but I decided to write on the subject for my blog too, because I just read one of the best articles yet on the subject. The article is by Tim Padgett, the bureau chief for Time magazine, but appears in America (the Catholic news magazine published by the Jesuits. The article is "Rethinking Immigration Reform: It Starts in Mexico" (unfortunately, if you don't subscribe to America, this link will only give you access to the first paragraph of the article!). Padgett was in Mexico on assignment and got into a conversation with some Mexican journalists who, in an unusual turnabout, stated that the US should build a wall because it would force the Mexican government to address the issue of immigration and the huge gap between the very few very wealthy and the multitudes of poor in Mexico. While I do not agree with building the wall (and suspect the Mexican reporters were somewhat speaking tongue in cheek), the U.S. government should be taking some action to pressure the government of Mexico to address the needs of their own people that cause them to seek better lives in the U.S. Padgett points out that while home to the telecom billionaire who is the world's richest man, almost half of the country's 106 million people live in poverty with a quarter of those living on about $1 a day. In one of my favorite lines in the article, Padgett states:

My Mexican colleagues were simply acknowledging what most Americans still fail to grasp: immigration reform is not domestic policy; it's foreign policy.

Padgett points out that we will have a problem with illegal immigration as long as so many people in Mexico live in desperate situations. He then says:

But if we could work with countries like Mexico to steer more of their wealth and ours to the impoverished by means of better jobs, education and entrepreneurial opportunities--if we were to steer billions to those efforts instead of fences--we might not need fences.

One of the issues that cripples Mexico's economy, according to Padgett, is their banking system, a system that has "exorbitant interest rates and maddening red tape," making it all but impossible for small enterprises and those living in rural areas to get loans. Padgett then states:

Many of those immigrants have now decided to do what Mexico's banks won't. Mexicans in the United States send home as much as $25 billion in remittances each year; and while much of it used to be wasted on flashy pickup trucks, wide-screen televisions and (apologies to my fellow Catholics) ostentatious churches, more is now being used to start local microcredit banks. The hope, of course, is that fostering new, job-creating businesses at home will eventually keep Mexican workers at home.

Padgett visited a city where it is working, Santa Cruz Mixtepec. He says that 2/3 of the 3000 residents of this town lived undocumented in the U.S., but after several of the wives started a microcredit bank a few years ago, some have returned home from the States to start businesses and others are deciding not to leave. So far 95% of the loans have been paid on time. The woman Padgett interviewed, who is one of the bank's founders, said that this is because

locals want to make this program work "in order to bring our families back together."

All of this gels with my experience of visiting Mexico and meeting families whose sons or husbands were living in the U.S. sending money home. They would have loved to have these types of opportunities enabling them to keep their families together. Padgett, however, notes that the residents of Santa Cruz Mixtepec realize that microcredit will not solve all of their problems though because of the deplorable state of education in Mexico. In addition to recommending that the U.S. invest its money in these types of venture, Padgett ends his article recommending our government push the government of Mexico on what he calls "the most urgent reform" needed in Mexico:

dismantling the power of its ravenous monopolies and oligopolies, which control everything from television to cement to sliced bread. They are the main reason that credit and capital get choked off from Mexican society, but Mexico can get away with it simply by exporting its desperate workers to the United States.

Today is the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, one of my personal heros. While many people associate St. Francis with bird baths and the blessing of animals, his actual life deeply exemplifies what it means to be Christian. Francis came from a wealthy family, and his father had many hopes and expectations that Francis would follow in his footsteps in taking up the family business. Instead, after experiences of war, imprisonment, and illness, Francis decided to follow in the footsteps of Christ, much to his father's dismay. The story tells us that when his father dragged him before the bishop, irate at the way Francis was living and by the fact that Francis kept giving money away to the poor, Francis stripped off all of his clothes and laid them at his father's feet. The bishop then embraced Francis and covered him with his own robe. Thus began Francis' life of total poverty, literally living according to the gospel mandate to the disciples to possess neither silver nor gold, neither shoes, nor staff, nor extra coat. Francis lived his life serving the poor and working amid the lepers. He also connected the idea of poverty to non-violence, claiming that those who own nothing have no need for a sword.

We also recently celebrated the feast of St. Michael and the Archangels (Sept. 29) and the memorial of the Guardian Angels. These celebrations made me think about angels and the fact that many people speak of those who have died as "becoming angels." An angel is a completely separate type of being, understood as a being that is pure spirit, unlike humans that are spirit and matter or inspirited matter/bodies. Humans don't become angels when they die; they are saints. So the next time we think of our loved ones who have died, think of them as part of the communion of saints, worshipping God with all of the angels. And that is your Catholic trivia for the day!!

I have been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be Catholic and why I am Catholic (beyond the fact that my parents baptized me into the Catholic faith!). These thoughts have come up for a couple of reasons. First, being in my mid-thirties, I am noticing that more and more of my friends are either looking for another church or just not going to church at all anymore. Most of these are people that were once part of our young adult group at my Catholic church when we were all in our late twenties. They are also all people I like and respect. Their reasons are varied and not unreasonable: dissatisfaction with the community itself, which unfortunately is proving to be not very kid-friendly as they are all having kids, dissatisfaction with a certain priest, a bad experience at a certain parish, etc. Then there are also issues with the greater church: the abuse scandal, the position on women or birth control or homosexuality, the issue of not allowing the use of condoms in HIV situations, the lack of involvement of the laity in the decision making process, etc. I understand their reasons, and honestly, I also struggle with some of the same issues in the Church, so why do I stay? What is it that keeps me from walking away, finding another church or another way to worship God?

Honestly, I don't know that I can even put it into words. Being Catholic is just part of who I am, not simply because I was raised that way, but because it is part of the core of my being and identity. Which brings me to the second occasion that caused me to reflect on this question, a conversation with colleagues about Catholic identity and what it means to be Catholic. For me, being Catholic is not about simply accepting everything the Catholic Church teaches and says, though it does involve staying in dialogue with the Church on all it teaches and says, struggling to understand why it takes the positions it does and what values it is trying to protect. For me (and really for Catholic ecclesiology) the Church is also bigger than the hierarchy. It is not simply what "the Church" thinks versus what I think, because I am part of the Church (recognizing of course that the hierarchy is the teaching office of the Church, and so my opinion does not hold as much institutional weight as that of the bishops). The Church is not some entity over and against me, I am part of it and it is part of me. So yes, I believe that you can be Catholic, be a FAITHFUL Catholic, and disagree with the Church. That is part of why I am Catholic, because I love the principle of "unity in diversity" that is a bedrock principle of how the Catholic Church understands what it means to be Church. I believe that one of the great gifts of Catholicism is its ability to hold together people of very diverse viewpoints.

On a deeper theological level, for me being Catholic is about believing in the goodness and love of God our Creator, and thus the goodness of humanity and all creation. This core theological precept is what grounds the sacramental mentality of Catholicism, the idea that all of created reality has the ability to mediate God because it has been created by God. Our sacraments are based on a relationship with God that is tangible, a God who has chosen to enter into our finiteness so that we see, hear, smell, taste, and touch the presence of God in bread and wine, in oil and water, in candles and incense, in song and symbol. I am Catholic because I experience that presence of God each Sunday in the community, the Word, and the Eucharist. Sure I experience God when I kayak down the Root River amid the breathtaking wonder of the autumn leaves, but that is not enough for me. I need the ritual, the beauty of the words and gestures, the reminder of who I am and the union that I experience in the Eucharist.

I am Catholic because I believe that God loves all people, has graced all people, and is present to and in all people through the Spirit; and so I believe that the goodness of humankind will ultimately triumph. I am Catholic because on my worst days and on the days when things seem to be so wrong in the world, I can look at a crucifix and see an image of the God that loves us despite all of our sinfulness and brokenness, a God in whom the victory over sin, evil, and death has ultimately already been won by a love that is bigger than our worst failings and with us in our darkest moments. That is why I am Catholic. That is why I stay. In the words of the grandmother of one of my professors, "You cannot leave your heart."

Amos chides the people in this Sunday's reading for selling "even the refuse of the wheat." But what does that mean? Social justice is beautifully inscribed into the very heart of the Hebrew covenant law. They had their very own "welfare" system, decreed by God. The law states:

When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not be so thorough that you reap the field to its very edge, nor shall you glean the stray ears of your grain. Likewise, you shall not pick your vineyard bare, nor gather up the grapes that have fallen. These things you shall leave for the poor and the alien. I, the LORD, am your God. (Lev. 19:9-10; see also Lev. 23:22)

And again:

When you reap the harvest in your field and overlook a sheaf there, you shall not go back and get it; let it be for the alien, the orphan or the widow, that the LORD your God may bless you in all your undertakings. When you knock down the fruit of your olive trees, you shall not go over the branches a second time; let what remains be for the alien, the orphan and the widow. When you pick your grapes, you shall not go over the vineyard a second time; let what remains be for the alien, the orphan, and the widow. For remember that you were once slaves in Egypt; that is why I command you to observe this rule. (Dt. 24:19-22)

There is a great example of this in the Book of Ruth, the story of a widow who is living in Bethlehem with her mother-in-law. Ruth goes to the fields to glean ears of grain after the harvesters have gone through, and the field she enters happens to belong to Boaz. Boaz tells her not to glean in anyone else's field, but to stay with his female servants following the harvesters. He tells her he has instructed his men not to harm her, and she may drink from the water they provide. (The story eventually ends with the marriage of Ruth and Boaz, who are the parents of Jesse and the grandparents of King David.) The Hebrew law included what we would call today distributive justice - an allocation, and at times reallocation, of material goods to meet the needs of all (see the sections on the jubilee and Sabbath laws in Lev. 25 and Dt. 15!)

Amos, our prophet for this Sunday, is a shepherd from the southern kingdom of Judah, but he is preaching in the city of Bethel in the northern kingdom of Israel (c. 700s BC). Amos is appalled by the great prosperity of the city combined with a complete disregard for the poor. Furthermore, the people are not just falling down in their obligation to care for the poor, they are taking advantage of them and actively cheating them. Amos warns the people that God will destroy their winter house, their summer house, their ivory apartments. He paints a picture of the women of Bethel, the "cows of Bashan," as he calls them, lying on their "beds of ivory" eating choice food, listening to music, and drinking wine, while oppressing the weak and abusing the needy. (Bashan is a region of rich pasture land where the herds were well fattened - even in the 700s BC, calling the women "cows" was NOT a compliment!)

Amos tells the people that God detests their worship, that worship has no substance if the people are not upholding the covenant to care for the poor and needy among them. Amos tells them, thus says the LORD your God,

I hate, I spurn your feasts, I take no pleasure in your solemnities; Your cereal offerings I will not accept, nor consider your stall-fed peace offerings. Away with your noisy songs! I will not listen to the melodies of your harps.

But if you would offer me holocausts, then let justice surge like water, and goodness like an unfailing stream. (Amos 5:21-24)

By not acting with justice toward the poor and the needy, by not leaving anything of the harvest behind for the poor and selling "even the refuse of the wheat," the wealthy folks of Bethel are breaking their covenant with God. Amos tells them that if they keep on this way, their kingdom will be destroyed. Indeed the northern Kingdom falls to the Assyrians in 721 BC. When I read Amos I can't help but wonder, what would he say to us today?

(P.S. As a follow up to my last post, America Magazine had a great article on Mother Teresa this week!)

Mother Teresa was on the cover of Time magazine a couple of weeks ago (I am always behind in reading my magazines!) with the headline, "The Secret Life of Mother Teresa: Newly published letters reveal a beloved Icon's 50 yr. crisis of faith." When I first heard of this "shocking" revelation that Mother Teresa had experienced doubt and darkness in her prayer life, my reaction was, "Well, of course she did!" How could anyone see the misery and human suffering that she did day in and day out and never have any questions or doubt about God? Having read the article now, I realize that her suffering the "dark night of the soul," as it is traditionally called in spirituality (from St. John of the Cross), was much darker and more profound than I first supposed. She had very mystical and intense experiences of Jesus when she was young that literally compelled her to start out on her mission, and then just as she was getting started, the visions and even the closeness she felt to Christ simply ceased.

I have several thoughts on this revelation, starting with the question of whether her personal letters and most private writings should have been published at all, when she specifically requested that they be destroyed upon her death. While I recognize that these writings will hopefully offer a lot of support and comfort to all of us as we struggle with the daily difficulties of staying faithful to God, I can't help but feel that our reading them is a violation of her privacy. She was writing to her confessors, her spiritual directors, and in her private journals. How many of us would want the world reading those sorts of letters? Even famous people should have a right and the freedom to be able to write their innermost thoughts and feelings without fearing that their writings will one day be fodder for conversation over coffee (or material for someone's blog!). I find it a bit ironic that while she requested that her personal writings be destroyed, she was "overruled by her Church," but Pope John Paul II (who was Pope at the time of her death) similarly asked that his personal writings be destroyed upon his death. His wishes were respected. Thus while one can argue that Mother Teresa was a public figure that most people figured would one day be a saint, the same thing could be said about John Paul II.

Nonetheless, Mother Teresa's writings have been preserved and now published, so I suppose it is a moot point now! Given that fact, the letters do tell a spectacular story of her faith journey. The article in Time speculates and interviews people about their opinions on why her visions stopped, why she suddenly experienced such suffering in her spiritual life. My personal reflections were very different from all of the opinions ventured there, while of course realizing that the bottom line is that in this life we will never know the answers to those questions. I thought about the fact that most of us never experience the kind of visions and union with Christ she experienced, and how it had been that mystical experience that compelled her to begin her work with the poor. It seems to me that once she began her work, the purpose of the visions was accomplished and so she no longer needed to have extraordinary visions. The force of her own strong personality and will were enough to keep her moving forward in her work once she had begun. The thing about visions is that they are extraordinary, not ordinary. Most people never experience them. When they are given, they are given for a reason. The article says that there was one time she had relief from her spiritual suffering. After Pius XII died, she asked by virtue of his intercession for a sign that God was pleased with the Society. She received the sign she asked for and her suffering disappeared, but only temporarily. She eventually had to find a way to come to terms with "the absence" of Christ in her life. I can only imagine, though, how excruciating it must be to lose that sense of presence once you have experienced it. The prayers, Scripture, sacraments, etc., that bring such joy to us must pale in comparison to the immediate vision and voice of Christ. The amazing thing to me about Mother Teresa is her perseverance - in prayer, in belief, and in the incredible work she was doing - in the face of her inner turmoil. I expect she would have continued her work, even if she had come to lose her faith, because I think she believed in what she was doing. She did not lose her faith though, but rather understood her own suffering as a part of her solidarity with Christ on the cross. Her "crisis of faith" reveals not a closet atheist (as Christopher Hitchins would have one believe), but the very definition of true faith - belief in the face of doubt - echoing those words from Mark I quoted a few weeks ago that we all need to say to God at times, "I do believe, help my unbelief!" (9:24)