River Currents: The Physics of Prayer

Floating in style.

My view of the spiritual life is that it is like the currents of a river.

We are born in this river and that's where we live our lives. It is all around us, and it has energy and movement. Like a person swimming in the river, we are a part of it and yet also have some autonomy--at least, for a time.

We have the ability to either swim with the currents of the river or against them.

There are things we can do--or that can happen to us--to align ourselves more closely with the Spirit.

Religious traditions have identified methods--prayer, meditation, academic study, works of charity, artistic pursuits, our daily labors, our family, friendships and community involvement--that can put us more or less in line with the currents of the river.

When we are moving with the current, we seem to swim more easily, seem to cover more ground and seem to be doing what we are meant to be doing. When we fight against it, it's sometimes dangerous, but not always--but it's a lot of effort with perhaps little gain. We're out of sync.

We don't control the river, but we can make ourselves more receptive to it.

And sometimes the river will simply move us no matter what we do. Call it grace.

The current can also be dangerous, too--a long tradition of martyrs witnesses to this.

Maybe this is not an original thought--saying that the Spirit is like a river is borderline cliché, after all. How many of you reading this have Garth Brooks' The River going through your mind right now? (I'd link to it here but I wasn't able to find any good versions online.) But it feels new to me if we apply this metaphor of the river specifically how it relates to spiritual practices. It's a way to understand prayer. It's a way to understand religion--it's the physics of spiritual practices.

A lot of people reject the notion of the power of prayer, saying--if there is a God, how can we pretend to control God through our petitions?

A common response to this is: Prayer changes the one who prays more than it commands the activity of God.

Pope Francis seems to be echoing these thoughts in the meme above. This is one of my all-time favorite Francis quotes. He has an ultra-earthy spirituality that I just love. It's a spirituality so concrete it sounds like atheism. He is challenging anyone who has lulled themselves into a false confidence that the amazingly passive action of praying for the hungry is actually going to somehow bring food into their mouths. That is not nearly enough. I don't think he is saying that prayer itself isn't enormously beneficial, I just think he's suggesting that if all you are doing for the hungry is praying for them, that's not exactly bringing your "A" game by any stretch.

Prayer changes us, but not just our attitudes.

I think it's more about energy. When we pray, we turn toward the current and allow it to carry us--like a sunflower that turns toward the sun. We vibrate at the same frequency of the Spirit. Or at least, we tune ourselves to harmonize with the cosmos better. Prayer--and other practices--help align ourselves to go with the current rather than against.

Instead of resisting the current, attempting to muddle along inch-by-inch through our own power, we instead submit ourselves to the current first. Then our efforts are supported and encouraged by the momentum we have put ourselves in line with. It's the same spiritual energy that gave birth to us and which is our ultimate end.

Prayer brings us into a resonance with the deeper, life-giving wavelengths of the universe. It does not just change our attitude or direct our awareness, both of which are also good, impactful things--it causes us to vibrate at a different frequency. Once we are vibrating at a different frequency, the world around us changes, too, because we will then be drawing other people, activities and things that resonate with our new vibrations.

Imagine yourself a street musician. If you play sad songs, you might invite the tears of those who pass by. If you play happy songs, you may find yourself surrounded by happy people dancing. If you align yourself with the deepest currents of the universe--the deepest of which is love, according to all the mystics from nearly all the world's religions--then your life and activities will correspond with love, and you will probably witness daily miracles.

However, I reject the notion of what many called the "prosperity Gospel." This is the idea that if you do what God wants, then you will be rewarded with material riches, as if God is locked into some kind of contractual relationship with you. Prosperity Gospel enthusiasts will say that faithful believers will be rewarded with happiness, wealth and easy-to-see material rewards. I do affirm there is a power to positive thinking, but it's not as linear as that. A lot of people surrounded by love also have great tragedy. Spiritual abundance does not always correspond to the material abundance we were hoping for. The spiritual path takes bravery for this very reason.

I'm not against the idea that prayer not only changes the people praying but can also effect change outside of themselves, too. There are probably ways that prayer can impact the collective consciousness or draw positive energy toward us or others, like some spiritual gravitational field. I also think that this is also personal and not merely mechanical, although I cannot claim to be able to work out the theology for that.

A lot of people think they opt into the Spiritual life when they join a particular religion or get initiated. I don't think so. We are already in the river. We have a physical, emotional and spiritual life by our very nature. We don't just opt in. You don't get a body by joining a gym, and you don't get a heart by seeing a therapist--but you can choose to cultivate those aspects of yourself through these mechanisms. Religion is an attempt to do the same for the spiritual dimension of life.

Much of Christianity has skewed this, I think. There is a longstanding belief that we can choose what kind of afterlife we want or whether we have one at all--rather than simply believing that we are all just part of it all no matter what. In my view, we can choose to thrive in it or not, but we can't choose whether or not to participate--at least, not in this life.

We can choose to glide gracefully over the waters or thrash about--why? Perhaps for the sheer beauty of it. Perhaps it is not tied to any end other than just that. Maybe we can do good just because it's good--a pure gift, just like how God gives to us. That's when we know we are truly in line with the Spirit.

Too much of Christianity has claimed that the value of cultivating a spirituality is for the purposes of securing a certain kind of afterlife for oneself. I think that stagnates growth as it is based on fear. The Biblical tradition instead calls us to let go of fear and just love for no other reason than because we were ourselves loved openly and freely first. Does this come with some kind of consequence?  I'm sure it does, but not in some simplistic sense of buying ourselves a ticket to heaven. But it does put us more closely in line with the power of Christ who will ultimately reconcile all of Creation back to God--why not support that rather than resist? Maybe all the workers receive the same wage whether they arrive early or late (Matthew 20:1-16), but wouldn't you just rather be early to the ultimate party and be part of it as it is unfolding? That is its own reward.

I think the spiritual path is more about behavior than belief--that's why nonbelievers who are full of abundant love are in line with the Spirit, even though they may understand it differently than I do.

I would also suggest that much, if not all, of what I'm saying here is not far removed from more traditional religious speak. There may be different language for it, but if you step back and look with a mystical eye, you might conclude that I'm not saying anything new at all.

What meditation looks like.

Now or Never

Even though I have been writing church music for the last several years, I have not shared much with my current choir. In the hustle and bustling of getting ready week after week and settling in as the director, it was the last thing on the agenda. Original songs would take several weeks of practice to work out the kinks. On some level, I wanted the choir and congregation to accept me in a more substantive way before pushing a lot of strange new music on them—I wanted them to buy into my vision and be willing to go for a ride with me.

I admit that part of the hesitation was my own inhibition about sharing this part of myself. All the other closet artists out there can no doubt relate.

However, we have sung at least 15 original Responsorial Psalms in the last year. At least a good 6-7 were mine. Most of them were originally composed by my cantor Mary. I enjoyed that as it took the spotlight off of me and gave me the chance to focus on the vocal arrangements and chord structures. She is nearly blind, so I have jurisdiction over everything written. That gives me an autonomy while still being a creative partner. She would sing a melody a cappella and the rest was up to me, with her feedback along the way. While it is appropriate to credit her as the songwriter on those, I definitely felt like a co-writer and could really stretch out creatively. It has been a great opportunity to practice arranging for voices, something I had not had a lot of experience with. Responsorial refrains are very short, which was a good opportunity to focus on the details and get them right.

Fast-forward to today.

Most Catholics are aware of what is happening in Advent, 2011: The implementation of the new translation of the English Mass, which includes changes to many of the sung parts.

The “Holy, Holy” is changing by the difference of a single phrase, but other pieces like the “Gloria” are radically different from the current translation. While it is possible to engineer existing music to fit the new words, this is often a questionable exercise. Some pieces just do not work with the different words. Even the “Holy, Holy” has significant troubles. “Lord God of power and might” will be rendered as “Lord God of hosts.” The difference of 3 syllables in a short piece, not to mention ending with an abrupt physical sound like “hosts,” is enough to threaten the very existence of an existing musical setting. Many versions are not going to survive.

Songwriters are like architects. There is a mathematics to it. You want to be creative, but yet all the pieces have to fit into the context, too: Heating vents cannot be covered by rugs or couches. Plants need to have the right amount of light. A house should be an expression of an artist’s creativity, but it still has to accommodate all the practical demands of withstanding the elements and being a functional space.

Songwriting is the same. You have to put the pieces together in a way that meets practical and artistic demands. The left and right sides of the brain are not only both used but they must work together in concert. Every note and phrase must make sense locally and within the whole. The right words need to be accented. Not only does the physical sound have an architecture, but there are the additional concerns regarding the appropriateness for liturgy and fitting with the available instruments, choir members and congregation. All that has to fit while still being an artistic expression.

All of this is to say: Do not be fooled at how “small” some of the changes are, because they will have a dramatic impact on the playability of these songs. This means that the next several months is now or never time. If the numerous Mass settings that I have composed are ever going to see the light of day, the time is now.

This gave me an incentive to pitch this music to the choir. They will sing whatever I ask, but it is important to me that they are with me in spirit. The choir is receptive to giving these compositions a chance. I want to be sensitive, as songwriters have a notorious reputation for holding their congregations hostage to being a dumping ground for their original music. The music has to resonate with the life of the congregation. But we must always remember that the Catholic faith has always inspired people to create art and music. Our faith would be dead if we did not make room for the different gifts people have to offer. I am a writer, and I need to tinker.

I have often had this vision that one day I would just open up my back catalogue of tunes and just start rolling them out as-is. What has happened is probably what is generally more likely: I pick a tune from the past I like, make a couple more to match, add a new piece and rearrange something else dramatically. There are factors which make some songs better options than others, and require still others to be adapted, such as the members of the choir and their respective ranges, the temperament and charism of the parish, and the singability and ease of learning of a piece. What we are rolling out is actually 2 older pieces and 3 brand spanking new ones. The creative process is always in the present tense.

I originally began writing a “Gloria” as I was recovering from cancer surgery back in 2005. Over the next few years I kept adding to it until the piece was complete. I recently added vocal harmonies that I am proud of. The other piece is a “Memorial Acclamation” from around the same time. I liked it so much I decided to use it to fashion a “Holy, Holy” and an “Amen,” since those pieces are a musical trinity. Mary added some significant advice, and we have worked out a finished set. They are simple, singable, and I overall feel good about them. I tried to work out a “Lamb of God,” but as I was tinkering on it one day, Erin started singing a completely new melody to the chord progression, and it turned out to be quite lovely. Her “Lamb of God” is the one we are going with.

Today we unveiled this set, with the exception of the “Gloria” which will still take a couple of weeks of practice. It is hard to debut original music. I always feel that it is never good enough, and I continually find places to make changes. I have come to a place where I do not need people to like it for my emotional well-being. Some will, some will not, and some just need more time and a good performance before they are convinced. But there is no question that this is me revealing myself, and it is so hard to face rejection on thooe terms. When people do reject it, or even reject the whole idea of me sharing my music at all, I know cognitively that they are usually doing it to mask their own insecurities or ignorance, but it still can hurt quite a bit. But I also have grown tremendously by taking the chance to share anyway.

I was happy with how it went today. The choir did a good job and did right by me. We will see how it goes as this music is sung over the next few weeks. A lot of people are just exceedingly happy that we are finally transitioning away from the Latin Mass parts (which we began in Lent). Right now, I am just happy to be sharing this music. I have been working on this music for many years. Aside from some very informal Masses at the Catholic Worker, this has not been played in a Church setting before, so this is a big step for me.

Artistic Formation through the Public Forum

Beatitude Sunday is probably not the best day to play Prometheus. Unless you enjoy tragic irony, that is.

I have a lot of friends who are closet artists of all kinds. One major lesson I have taken from my 6 months as Music Director of a church is how crucial it is to just get out there and put your art in a public setting. This is true for any art form--music, prose writing, you name it.

It has taken the last 6 months--2 Masses each week, practices and a few Holy Days--before I've been able to more fully stretch out on the guitar. If you are counting, that's at least 50-60 live "performances" with at least as many practices either with the whole choir or individual cantors.

I could play all sorts of intricate songs at home, but put me in front of a crowd in a formal setting, expecting me to lead a full choir and congregation through my playing, and all sorts of problems arise: My fingers suddenly have all the flexibility and dexterity of telephone poles. For months, the only thing that has worked was chugging my way through simple chords. It was the only thing I could do that was strong enough and confident enough to actually lead in an adequate way. Folks asked for more intricate intros with the melody so they could follow the tune better, but it was all I could do.

It has only been in the last couple of weeks that I have been able to play more elaborate finger-picking songs at Mass. I've been having a blast coming up with my own arrangements of popular songs, and the congregation has responded to it. The big lesson was realizing how long it took to do something in public that I could have easily done at home.

There's nothing like a public showing of your art to point out where the gaps are. A little hesitation while playing at home may not be noticed until it throws off the entire song at Mass. You also need to be twice as good in private in order to play half as good in public, when you factor in nervousness, crowd distractions, and sound system issues that are all poised to throw you off when you least want it.

Part of the problem was just finding a comfort level with the microphone and sound system. Artists often forget how important it is to navigate the technical doo-dad's and gizmotrons that are part and parcel of their craft. It takes a while to find the right settings and to get comfortable with placement of the mic so that it rings out the way it should. Even purists who abhor electronic amplification still have to adjust to each room they are in and factor in how the temperature, humidity and crowd size can impact the resonation of sound. These lessons are just as important as learning the notes on the page.

The public presentation of art is also crucial for garnering critical feedback. Many original ideas that work well in the privacy of your own living room just can't hold water in public. Some just need slight--but essential--tweaking. In Catholic liturgical music, I would argue that it should be darn near mandatory that all pieces are done at Mass before any attempt is made to seek publishing. Each piece needs to be sung and played and sung back to you by a congregation. They need to be part of the life of the Church, and the people need to be on board.

In addition, a choir needs to give feedback to chop an inflated song down to its essential core. While my choir is experienced enough and technically sophisticated enough to sing just about anything, it is often good when they struggle or wrinkle their noses at a new piece. If a piece can only be done well by the most avant garde ensemble, then it just might be missing something important, especially since I'd rather craft tunes you can whistle while you wash dishes. The public forum can be frustrating, and you have to know when to push for something new and stick to your guns and when to let the masses who are often resistant to new things push back. A lot of "cute" ideas aren't really that cute. A solid church choir won't let you get away with much, and your art will usually be the better for it.

You can put something together that you think has all the t's crossed and the i's dotted, but then an editor takes a look and brings it back to you smothered in red pen. That is not a moment to be discouraged, as the editing process is an essential part of the craft. It is not something that only "bad pieces" go through, every piece should be edited by people far a wide--for technical issues or to discuss the vision. Any good artist has a team of such people--whether formally assembled or otherwise--that serves this role. You should expect that a significant portion of what you create will not leave the cutting room floor (and you can always keep that stuff in the back of your mind to use again later).

Since my guitar playing has been going well lately, perhaps I tried to over-reach this Sunday and make a bit of a show of myself: I originally planned to do the opening song on banjo, the offertory in an open turning, the Psalm and Alleluia on piano and the rest on a second guitar in standard tuning. The problem was that the choir just struggled. No matter how prepared I thought I was, they just couldn't get into the pieces, and I'm still not sure why. I shelved the banjo to try to help, as I was a little awkward with it, but Saturday was still disappointing. We did close out Sunday singing strong, but my lesson had been learned by that point.

I will also admit something unfortunate: I only picked the song for Offertory because I was super-excited about an arrangement I came up with. I borrowed Erin's guitar and had a blast working on it in an open tuning. The problem was that the song had no bearing on this Mass at all. We were talking about the beatitudes, and this was a song about the centrality of the Crucifixion to our faith. As a good theology student, I can build a systematic case as to how and why those two themes are related. "Blessed are the meek" is, after all, not that far removed from the paschal sacrifice--the less becomes more and the sacrifice becomes a gain. Still, I didn't feel comfortable with it and my motives were not theological. Normally, I go to great lengths to pick music that is liturgically appropriate, but this time I let that slide a bit.

I keep getting reminded that slow-and-steady is what will win this race. Yes, it is good to stretch out and reach for more, but I reached too far and got burned this time. I also didn't reach with my feet on the ground, and that is probably the most significant issue. I picked at least one song for the wrong reasons, and probably had my focus off center on some other pieces. As a result, I'm not surprised that it just didn't work. I had too much of my focus on my own playing without giving enough thought to connecting to people through the music.

Seek the Lord all you humble of heart. As this passage from today's readings suggests, being meek doesn't mean we are passive or inactive. We need to seek the Lord, but through humility. We need to seek goodness and seek artistic fulfilment. You see, Prometheus wasn't wrong for reaching for more--he was wrong because of his motives for reaching.

* * *

This is part 2/5 of the series "Strategic Goal Setting."

On Being a Church Music Director

I’m having a great time lately as a church music director, but it is taking a long time to find my footing. As soon as I prepare for the Masses for one weekend, within a couple days I need to be ready for the following week--and then another one and another one and so on!

I just can’t overstate how much of an adjustment it is keeping up with the rhythm and pace of it all.

In my final Masters in Theology course, we spent weeks preparing for a public presentation. We rehearsed several times, got lots of feedback, and when the time came it was an all-or-nothing shot. We could gather all our wits, energy and strength in preparation for a single moment, holding nothing back. Being a regular church musician playing twice a week requires me to allocate energy within myself in a whole different way. I simply can’t “peak” twice a week, week after week, month after month. There will be some good days and some days that are just good enough.

I’ve read a lot of bios of musicians, and in them I would often hear complaints about a rigorous touring schedule. I’d also hear people express surprise and admiration that some bands can continually bring in new material on a regular basis. I have a new appreciation for all of that. It is emotionally quite difficult to be “up” and “on” week after week, day after day. And while the choir does have an established repertoire of many songs and Mass settings, it still takes quite a bit of work rotating in 4 different songs each week, plus Mass settings that need to change regularly. Throw in holy days and the children’s choir and I’m tapped out!

I know, I know, tell all this to the guy schlepping kitty litter in a warehouse 40 hours a week and see how sympathetic he is. Still, each occupation has its crosses to bear, great and small. I feel like I’ve been in an emotional whirlwind the last several months, and I am only beginning to feel like things are settling--and even then I am wary because when I relax too much I find myself falling behind, again.

As church musicians, our goals are different than if we were preparing for a Carnegie Hall performance. Our goal is not to be perfect, but to be credible song leaders. Our goal is to compliment the liturgy and help the congregation in their singing, not to put on a show. This is true even if we have in common many of the same skills and experiences as showpeople.

Don’t get me wrong: I am thrilled to be doing this work. It is a wonderful way to spend my time and earn my bread. The parish community I work in is just tremendous. This has been an opportunity to be creative, develop skills and gather experience working in a parish environment. I regularly put in full-time hours for part-time pay.

I see my role in ministerial terms. Yes, I am the guy playing piano and directing the choir, but ultimately what I’m trying to do is facilitate the musical life of the parish community. I’m always on the lookout for nurturing new talent and interest. I’d love to involve more of the parish in the planning of the music. I feel most connected to the liturgy when I take the time to plan the music, because that is when I meditate on the Scriptures the most deeply and see the ways they are inter-connected. I’d love to share that experience with others. I do believe strongly that participation in the best way to build up a community, and I’d be glad to help that in any way that I can.

Composed By, But Not Composed

One of the things that is very exciting about my new job is the chance to play some of my original music at church. I've been a closet liturgical composer for years, rarely showing anything to the light of day. I'm very happy to share, and lately I've been burning the midnight oil rattling off a new group of pieces.

Over the years, I've actually worked on several Masses, Psalm settings and other songs.

I'm always uncomfortable unveiling it, though. Today, I printed off an insert for the bulletin with 3 new songs we are introducing, among them being one of my compositions. It felt awkward to put "written by ..." at the top. It seems to put attention in the wrong place. I'd rather folks enjoy it (or not), and let them interact with it naturally. Knowing the person who penned it is sitting at the piano may turn it into a showpiece and get in the way of an authentic experience. Folks might feel pressure to be polite and make a remark to me, and I don't want them to feel any awkwardness around me.

It also seems rather egotistical to put my own name at the top.

However, not putting anyone's name could raise eyebrows as to copyright infringement!

Granted, when I put the name of a fellow choir member at the top of a tune that she had made, I had nothing but pride in announcing it to the world. But when it's for myself, it is another thing entirely.

However, a couple weeks ago we played another one of my Psalm settings. I didn't tell anybody in the congregation, at first. I finally told the cantor a couple days afterwards. It didn't seem humble to guard this information. It felt like I was hiding myself from the people around me. It felt cold and empty.

Perhaps putting my initials at the top and saying no more about it is enough.

It could also be that I just need to take more time to get to know folks more as a person. How can I write something that lives and breathes the life of this congregation without getting to know it better first? And then if folks see my name at the top of a piece, well, our relationship would have more of a foundation and a little thing like a song wouldn't become the focus because we would something else to build on.

I don't want to obsess, but I want to be tasteful and appropriate. Maybe it's just the Midwestern farmer in me. Deciding whether or not to put my name in 8 or 12 point font, just initials or not at all, should not have the equivalency of a moral dilemma, but there is a cost to not being careful here. It is fun to celebrate and receive attention, but art needs to come before the artist. I don't want to get in the way of folks having an authentic relationship with the music or with me as a person.

Maybe all this talk of humility is really just a decoy. Maybe I'm just scared of exposing myself. Sharing my music means sharing a deep part of myself. If the music is rejected or not liked, does that mean I'm rejected and not liked? Can they be separated? And it's not really about rejection, it is really about me saying this is who I am, this is what I bring to the table, I'm happy to share it! Like it or not, this is who I am. I am present and accounted for and not hiding behind a curtain.

Emotional Responsorial Psalms

Fr. Pat said something in his homily at the Catholic Worker that has stuck with me. He said that the Responsorial Psalm is a time to reflect emotionally on themes found in the other readings. That day it was particularly true of the first reading, as the hopeful Psalm was a much needed answer to the burden of the Jeremiah reading.

Along the same lines, there is in line in the GIRM (General Instructions of the Roman Missal), which states that the Responsorial Psalm "fosters meditation on the word of God." (Yes, it really is pronounced like "germ.")

If the goal is to foster meditation on the word of God and reflect emotionally on the other readings, are we actually doing that?

I have to admit that most Reponsorial interpretations I have heard have left me empty. We usually have a melodic refrain and the verses are done in a kind of plain song. Plain song is a way of singing that is less rhythmic and chant-like. This is where you sing a single note for most of each line and the last few syllables you either ascend or descend to the next chord change. You would think this would give the cantors the freedom to let the words drip from their mouths like poetry. However, it seems that all too often the cantor is more focused on just getting the syllables right, knowing when to bring it back to the ending notes or such. Many cantors get too strict on the technicalities, and the notes seem to rise or fall regardless of which words are involved.

To my ear, cantors simply jam the words of the psalm into the plain song motif whether they fit in an emotional sense or not.

Hearing someone chant the Psalms in plain song is a beautiful thing to hear. What I mean is: It is a physically beautiful sound, and the sound itself has atmosphere, drama and depth. However, it is often detached emotionally from the words, for me. It can be a great way to get a whole congregation singing that hasn't had time to practice together. People can chant the Liturgy of the Hours together with no preparation. However, if the chant melody enhances the words of the Psalm it is almost purely by accident. Often, it is downright awkward. They could be chanting "blah blah blah" and the effect would probably be the same.

I suppose in my heart of hearts I'm a folk singer. I approach music the way a folk singer would. What that means is that the "holy trinity" of melody, words and chords needs to be in equal balance. Each compliments the other and they all feed into the essence of a song. The melody has to fit the words and the chordal structure, and none of them is arbitrary. That is in sharp contrast to the approach of plain song chants.

I enjoy "plain songing" the psalms in a kind of folk style. This involves using chord changes that are more modern, and I often try to keep a steady rhythm. This means that the plain song starts to sound more and more like a distinct melody, and it requires rehearsal as each line needs to be interpreted slightly differently. Many of the chant features are still present, though. It is my way of making the Psalms real to me and letting the words resonate through me.

In planning the music for Masses, I wanted to give my choir not just a list of songs but some sort of direction or focus for each liturgy. I thought about having a one-line theme. I debated whether this was appropriate to do or whether the words of the liturgy should just speak for themselves. I reasoned that there are many who interpret the liturgy, such as the words of the homily, the selection of music or the intentions, and even the decor of the surroundings factors in, so I decided it is not misleading to suggest a focus this way. A music minister is, after all, a minister and as such should be a guide.

Actually, it is in discussion, reflection and hearing others' interpretations that I feel the "communication" that is meant to happen in liturgy actually happens for me. Simply hearing someone proclaim the readings often doesn't do much for me, until I sit back and try to reflect or discuss them with someone afterwards. I feel very connected to the liturgy in planning the music, because that, of all things, surely fosters meditation! I see how the pieces of each Mass fit together, and I am often just amazed. It can all whiz by me so quickly during Mass that it is easy to miss how well put together each Mass is.

What I discovered is that in nearly all circumstances, the Responsorial refrain is the best one-line theme for each Mass that I could think of. There is rarely a need wrack my brains to try to scope out the essence for a Mass. If you need to boil a Mass down to a one-line theme, look no further.

I later learned that a former professor of mine holds this same opinion, so whether I heard him say it or whether I came up with this on my own, I don't know. In any case, this is powerful enough and obvious enough (once I saw it) that I'm sure many folks have made the same connection time and again.

I am often amazed at how modern the Psalms can sound. Sure, there are times when too-literal translations or archaic references can cause a distancing. Quite often, though, I find myself saying that these words could have just as easily come from Woodie Guthrie or Jim Croce as from some psalmist 2,500 years ago. They just as easily could have come from me or you. We should sing them as if they do.

Perhaps this is just a matter of personal genre preference. Maybe there are many out there who are emotionally moved by the way Psalms are typically done in Catholic churches. I find them to be very beautiful, which can be moving in a certain way, but if the goal is to be emotionally moved by the words which cause a deeper meditation, then that's not happening. I'm much more likely to be emotionally moved by the stand-alone songs (which are often based on the Psalms), but rarely through the Responsorial interpretation. I bet I'm not alone in this.

It would seem that there could be more variety from parish to parish to appeal to people who connect in different ways, in much the same way that we do for the other songs we select for Mass. We freely select songs that match the age, culture and temperament of the congregation. It would seem that the Responsorial Psalm could and should be handled the same, ESPECIALLY since it plays such a strong role in the Mass itself.

The Psalms are deeply moving. Their words are as true today as they were when they were written. The Responsorial is a cornerstone for the Mass. It should be sung in a way that brings this out more to the congregation. It is the job of the music ministers to take those words from 2,500 years ago and show that they are alive and present now.

Liberals and Conservatives in the Church

Liberal and conservative trends in the Church often have a yin/yang relationship. One can give rise to the other.

Some liberal communities have a tendency to dissipate. The freedom to experiment is at first wonderful. People search for an authentic interaction rather than something scripted. But soon enough, things lose meaning. People go separate ways down undefined paths and end up just floating along. What are we about? People get mad at repressive policies in their church, so they leave and end up going to no church whatsoever. The baby can get thrown out with the bathwater.

Conservatives have a tendency to hyper-focus. Put a bunch of conservatives together and suddenly you have 10 pages of rules and a cult-like atmosphere. There is a need to breathe. God is bigger than your little rules. There's a lot of ugliness mixed in to the message, but at least there is a message, and the wonderful Good News of the Gospel can be passed along to the next generation, perhaps even unbeknownst to the messenger, in the most clumsy way possible.

There are all sorts of ways of finding God. Some seek God through the amazing freedom and radical justice promised in Scripture. Others seek God in stability, the Rock, the Cornerstone you can build on, also promised in Scripture. Our large Church can hold all of this together.

It is my belief that as long as liberals lose focus and throw the baby out with the bathwater, we will be continually cursed with subsequent generations of conservatives to bring the baby back, along with all the toxic bathwater.

Chesterton argued that Medieval Europe was not ready for the nature-loving Francis until it had deeply purged the essence of paganism from its psyche. Once people got the right relationship of God and nature, then the beautiful love of Creation could flower. We weren't worshipping nature, we were seeing the Revelation of God in and through nature, which is also wonderful and praiseworthy but it's not the same thing as actually worshipping nature. You can't go around talking about "brother sun and sister moon" until you know what you mean by that. The problem is that in order to establish this, Europe paid a hefty price. It wasn't a pretty sight re-orienting once-pagan Europe, and people did some very un-Christian-like things to encourage this to happen. A lot of good things got repressed in order to get this one idea across. I'm not sure why they couldn't have found a better method.

Some liberal theologians, activists and leaders may be ready to move the Church along. Some, however, think they are ready, but they aren't. In any case, the rank and file congregants may not be ready, and so we have to wait. The Catholic Church has a strong intellectual tradition, but we are not a church solely of intellectuals. We are a whole people, which is one of our most attractive features.

Liberals have in some ways let the Church down. Granted, conservatives have made it unquestioningly difficult for them. But at the end of the day, you can't blame someone else for why you have no faith. It's not good to have an answer for no reason. But it's not very attractive to just have questions, either.

I don't think liberal Christianity (of any denomination) has a message right now, which is why out-dated fundamentalism is so strong--when the choice is between having a clumsy, out-dated fundamentalism or having no faith at all, many choose the former. Perhaps they intuitively understand that it is better to have a faith with some very rough edges than to have no faith at all. For lack of a better term, you're damned if you do, damned if you don't. (Or maybe it's a question of frying pan vs. fire, but that's not a better metaphor, either!)

I do think Vatican II-era Catholicism was still in the sweet spot, but it perhaps broke down too many walls without giving enough clues as to what the alternatives can be. As Raymond Brown argued, you can give all sorts of well-founded reasons why some Bible stories may not be literally true, but if you don't offer at least some morsel of direction as to how you can still have faith in light of that, you will be doing a disservice to your audience. Something like that unintentionally happened in the fallout from Vatican II. However, I do think if the Church just kept the conversation going we would have gotten there.

Everything has a history. You can't understand the experiments of the 60s and 70s (beer and pizza Mass) without knowing the stagnant repression that it came in response to. And you can't understand the tightening of the reigns of modern times without admitting that in some important ways the experiments may be at risk for losing the baby with the bathwater. And so the powers that be clamp down--this is an exercise in fear, but maybe it is more than just fear? Maybe it is just an amazingly clumsy way of addressing the fact that something deep and important is at risk. I would like to think there were a better way of addressing this risk, but for whatever reason this seems to be what happens.

The logical, intellectual mind can move faster than the heart. You can intellectualize your way out of your faith before the rest of you has time to catch up. Whenever the Church as a whole does this, we run the risk of being smacked back two steps to try again.

If the pendulum swings too far one way, we can expect it to swing back eventually in the opposite direction. Perhaps this should be a warning to both liberals and conservatives.

Vatican II is to us what Francis was to Medieval Europe: The doors and windows swung open with a tremendous breath of fresh air. We recovered something important that we had previously lost. But if we can't move forward without unraveling something important, some people will come along (such as the modern young conservatives) to tighten up the clamps once again until we get it right.

Sausage

It is often said that there are two things you never want to see: How sausage is made and how a bill becomes a law.

To that list I would like to add a third: You never want to see the inner workings of how a church operates.

It is enough to appreciate the end result: Come to Sunday services and join in parish events. But don’t ask how it all got put together. It is not a pretty sight and it is not for the faint of heart.

A Lesson in Love

I wrote the following for my final class in the MA in Theology program at Ohio Dominican University. The assignment was to reflect back upon my goals and aspirations in my admissions essay and also to discuss growth in the following areas while attending the program: personal and spiritual maturity, vocational identity, pastoral praxis, theological formation and professional development.

* * *

In my graduate admissions essay for the MA in Theology program, I discussed the importance of picking a single goal to pursue, even if I was not sure if it was the right one or not. For many years, I had postponed plans to do many things (including going to graduate school), because I felt I had not properly discerned whether it was entirely the right time, place or circumstance to do it. I would wait until I was more certain.

In this, there was a fear of making a decision. I had a profound awakening when it occurred to me that waiting to make a decision actually is a decision itself—it is a decision to do nothing and let life happen by default. I realized that being on the journey may be the best mode to properly figure something out. I can do a better job of discerning while I am actively trying something out. Sitting on the sidelines does not give a person the best perspective to know whether something is right for them or not. This is the spirit that prompted me to begin the Masters in Theology program at Ohio Dominican University.

I am surprised I did not learn this lesson years ago. One summer, I got a notion to start fishing as a hobby. My mother knew a local boy who was an avid fisher. Our mothers were friends and there was the chance that I would begin to spend time together with this kid, so I figured it made sense to start fishing. I spent a summer looking through fishing catalogues, comparing prices on poles and looking for just the right tackle box. This boy and I were going to be the best of friends, I just knew it. Months later, I actually met him and tried out fishing for the first time. After about 5 minutes, I caught a bluegill. It tugged on my line, and then got away. It was exciting but also disappointing, as it was hard to enjoy a hobby that injured another animal, especially when I was not planning on eating the fish. It also turns out that I did not get along very well with this boy once we actually met. After 5 minutes of actually trying it out, I knew that fishing was not right for me, despite spending a full summer pursuing it from the sidelines and being so sure it was what I wanted.

I have made significant progress on most of my vocational goals during the past few years. In my admissions essay, I listed the following possible career goals: University professor, retreat coordinator, director of an outreach agency, published author of scholarly work or spiritual reflection and composer of liturgical music. Through my Masters program, I have taken strides toward a teaching job. I will consider possible PhD work or an adjunct position in the future. My work at the Catholic Worker has strengthened my skills in conducting retreats, as we have hosted many. I have maintained the Catholic Worker’s online blog, and look to expand its reach by sending submissions to local publications. Last year, I participated in (and was a substitute leader) in the music ensemble of Mass on campus at ODU. I helped the ensemble of piano and voice turn into a stronger group with drums, banjo, guitar and trumpet. I did this by incorporating my own skills as well as encouraging fellow students to stretch out and showcase their own hidden talents.

I did not make significant progress composing liturgical music during this time, but in the future I may still work on that (it does not help that the leading publishers have had an indefinite moratorium on new submissions for Mass parts as the new translation of the Mass is being reviewed).

The Columbus Catholic Worker community formed about three and a half years ago. I joined because I had previously been involved in other communities in Akron, OH, and Worcester, MA. The Catholic Worker movement has always impressed me as a beautiful and deeply insightful approach to Christian service in the way it blends direct outreach to the needy with involvement in global issues of justice. Being involved in direct service has a grounding effect, as people know others who are suffering on a personal level. In a likewise manner, being involved in social justice work gives a vision to the direct service, so that it is not just random acts of kindness but rather has an underlying vision and direction. In addition to that, the Catholic Worker movement is about turning one’s very lifestyle into an act of service--my normal rent contributions and housekeeping responsibilities turn into acts of service in this environment. This is done by using one’s own home as a place to conduct this service. Some claim that intentional communities like the Catholic Worker are part of a new movement in community living, often dubbed the “New Monasticism.”

I got involved in the community in Columbus and dug right in. I eventually moved with two other people into the former Dominican convent at St. James the Less Catholic Church. The foundation of our community is a group of people who live together in a faith-based way. We pray together and through our living in community try to be a light for the neighborhood, the city and the world.

We facilitate numerous ministries, based on the expressed needs of the world around us. There is a large and well-organized St. Vincent de Paul food pantry that shares the building with us. We run a free clothing store (which is an ideal partner to the food pantry). We have a thriving community garden which is not only a wonderful community builder, but it also produces bushels of produce for the food pantry. Knowing English is worth more than gold to the immigrant, and so based on the recommendations of the local Latino Apostolate, we offer ESL classes. On top of that, there is much work for peace & justice efforts. Most notably, that has taken the form of opposition to the death penalty, militarism and support for immigration reform. We helped form a new local chapter of Pax Christi, the international Catholic peace movement. We also open our space for retreats and workshops and host numerous other ministries: Spanish language legal clinic, nutrition classes, canning & food preservation classes, H1N1 inoculation clinic, Bible study and Taizé prayer.

In the spirit of Benedictine hospitality, sometimes the best way to help a movement is to provide the support, encouragement and structure for it. For example, not only do I vigil and write against the death penalty, but we have opened our Catholic Worker house to be a warm and inviting (and free) meeting space for groups working against the death penalty. A Catholic Worker house is often a gathering place for activists to learn from each other and support each other.

Taken together, the Catholic Worker tries to help out the world in big and little ways. There are direct Works of Mercy, such as feeding the hungry and clothing those who are cold—if someone needs a fish, we give them a fish. We also take it to another level and educate people how to build community and grow their own organic food through the garden and also provide education through ESL classes—by teaching someone to fish, we can feed them for a lifetime. We then look at the underlying social justice issues—we ask why they need fish in the first place. We try to be good neighbors and partners with other organizations—we trade fishing supplies with other fishers.

At a point early in the first year, I had a realization. I remember the moment: I realized that I truly love the Catholic Worker movement, and, more specifically, that I love the Columbus Catholic Worker community. For one of the first times in my life, I loved something enough to put it first. I was not as concerned about making a name for myself, getting credit or winning ego battles—I am truly willing to do whatever it takes for the community to succeed. This is not to say that I have been totally immune from those human frailties and temptations, though. What it does mean is that once I was grounded in love, then everything else took second place.

I am also learning a lot about the entrepreneurial spirit through this process. In reflection, I realized that my parents and grandparents were very entrepreneurial. It has taken me many years to see that, since at first glace it may seem like they worked ordinary blue collar jobs. However, behind all that, they were always making and selling things, such growing vegetables and going to flea markets and other sales. They were opportunistic in the way they used the resources and environment around them. They knew how to network.

As an entrepreneur, it is important to take an active role in the job market. There are many folks who graduate with BA and MA degrees in Theology (or some related degree) from Catholic and other Christian institutions in the Columbus area. However, the sad reality is that there are only a handful of job openings within the diocese. While many of those graduates already have jobs or are not looking for employment within the Church, there is no escaping the grim mathematical scenario of the job market.

I decided that the best way to get a job is to create one. Yet, I did not set out to do that at first with the Columbus Catholic Worker. Like I mentioned before, I was spurred on by love, and the rest fell into place. While we began as a community, I soon discovered that my sense of commitment was different that many others, and little by little some people stepped aside or moved on for one reason or another, and I was forced to take on more. It was not simply a question of taking on more work, but rather taking on the responsibility. Someone had to make sure things got done, even if that meant staying until 2:00 am to finish something if others did not show up. In all this, I felt I was being shaped and formed in this work. Thankfully, there is now with me a dedicated team that also shares a strong commitment to the mission, but there was a time when I felt alone. I have cared for the Columbus Catholic Worker like a parent to a child. I am rooted in a sense of commitment. Perhaps this is the conversion of the heart that Catholic Worker founder Dorothy Day talked about.

Despite the additional responsibility, I was also overjoyed at the opportunity: One of my primary talents is strategic planning. I like to take a bird’s eye view of an operation and put the pieces together from this vantage point. I created partnerships with other groups that met certain objectives. I put different ministries together in the hopes of generating synergy. Unlike other jobs and activities in the past, there were few people standing in the way. In any group of people, there are the ‘nay sayers’ and folks who create roadblocks for one reason or another, but in this case they were not as invested as someone who is in love.

Despite the fact that there was tremendous work involved, I also saw how feasible it was. I was part of a small group of community volunteers who put a structure together—I shepherded our group to incorporate as a non-profit organization. We are currently applying for 501C3 tax exempt status. I am the primary person forming partnerships with other organizations and negotiating with the host parish and diocese, maintenance and utilities companies. We have developed numerous ministries and outreach efforts. I realized that forming a completely new organization out of scratch is not an inaccessible, lofty goal, but rather something to be seized and tried. There are other options in life besides passively apply for jobs that are posted—we also have the option to go out and create our own. This has been a profound awakening.

The irony is that there is no shortage of job openings in the Church—if one is willing to wear a collar or habit. A priest is specifically ordained and stands in persona Christi. At the same time, we are all called to be co-workers in the vineyard, and we all share a common priesthood. The question is where the Catholic Church is willing to lean in this distinction. There is quite a bit of theology that the Church has to work through in order to shift the balance to include the laity more in matters once reserved for the ordained. The shift is not just administrative, because it requires a theological shift, as well. However, I believe that the groundwork for this shift has already been laid, most specifically at Vatican II.

Other religious orders have in some cases centuries of infrastructure and financial support for their work. The problem is that there are fewer people today taking lifetime vows of poverty, chastity and obedience than in previous generations. The result is that much of this infrastructure is left to sit idle—convents are closing down as orders consolidate.

New movements like the Catholic Worker show a different way for people to live in faith-based communities that resonate in the current culture. The three traditional, lifetime vows are not a requirement. Many communities are ecumenical. They allow men, women and families. They also allow for transition. People can either work outside jobs or not. It is a great experiment to see whether modern intentional communities will have the longevity of the Benedictines, Mendicants and others, but there is every reason to believe that these new movements are part of something substantial within the Church.

Traditional orders could benefit by trying to adapt to the modern culture. The ancient “order of widows” is coming back in fashion, as older people who are widowed or divorced with grown children are seeking out religious orders at that phase of their lives. There are also more third orders and “internship” type programs in place, but there could be more.

The Columbus Catholic Worker has a Catholic identity, but it is also ecumenical. Both are true. From the beginning, the thing that most impressed me by the founders of the Columbus community was the desire to work in concert with the institutional Catholic Church right from the beginning. We are a part of the Church, even though we do not report to the hierarchy. Many Catholic Worker communities have an adversarial relationship with their local parish or diocese. It is our desire to stay in relationship, even when we disagree, as that is the best context for true peacemaking.

My studies in theology have been extremely helpful in my leadership of the Catholic Worker. It is good to know what the hot button issues are in the theological world, so that we are careful about what we say publicly. It is important to represent what we want to say and not cause any unexpected responses—taking a controversial stand only when we want to and not by accident. I use readings from class in our group prayer and reflection time.

As Director of the organization, I am the “go to” person when difficult matters arise. People come to me to air out grievances about other people or the organization. I am the one called into difficult meetings when expectations have not been met or problems arise. My value is to be open and honest with people and carry myself in a measured way. I feel like I am in the public view 24/7, and I watch what I say and how I say it. At the same time, I have had to be mindful of my health. Finding appropriate people to confide in and vent to is critical, and I have learned that by experience: I developed a stomach ulcer last year, because I was walking this high wire act without creating enough space for my health.

Prayer is also critical. As a faith-based organization, we live on prayer and see the ministries as truly the fruit of the Holy Spirit and not directly our own efforts in isolation. Studying the Augustine vs. Pelagius debates in the Masters program have helped me to better understand the role of the Holy Spirit in our lives this way. I have a fuller appreciation for the orthodox view than I did before, as I used to lean a lot more to the Pelagian side before beginning the program.

I learned a great deal about Catholic Christian theology in the Masters program. It is valuable to have faculty who between themselves have different opinions and approaches to scholarship. I have truly come to understand the notion of God as Trinity in a way I never expected. I see the relationship between nature and grace, and our ability to explain it, as forming the dividing lines between many denominations. I see the foundations of Catholic Social Teaching in what Richard Sokoloswki calls “The Christian distinction”—that gratitude is the only appropriate response to creation, as creation is a pure gift from a God who does not need us but wants us. While I have never focused on sacramental theology, it becomes evident quickly that in systematic theology all of the fields are intricately related. I got to a point in my education where I had taken courses in eschatology and theological anthropology, and I touched up upon Trinity and Christology as part of other courses, and I knew that I had to study sacramental theology or else I would risk missing a vital link.

I am ultimately fascinated by ecumenism, and in my spare time I read up on ecclesiology. I read Avery Dulles’ Models of the Church the way some people read fiction for spiritual enlightenment. To me, systematic theology and spirituality are the same things. Notions of the Catholic, analogical imagination, as described by Andrew Greeley, have also had a strong impact on me. I have often struggled with people who hold that being a Catholic or Christian means affirming a set of beliefs—one is either in or out based on answers to certain questions. Both Dulles and Greeley describe ways to be Catholic that do not reduce the faith to meeting a short list of criteria. I struggle with many dogmas, magisterial pronouncements and the role of the pope. Yet, I know I am Catholic. Other denominations have never been a real possibility for me, even if I have had a hard time explaining why. My theology, the way I see grace in the world, is wholly Catholic through and through. This lumbering caravan of saints and sinners described by Dulles, the description of the Church as a great, big Renaissance Fair that never ends, described by fellow Catholic Worker Miki Tracy, are all part of the Catholic story.

I was deeply moved by the theologian Gerald W. Schlabach who envisions his own Mennonite Church more as a charism of the larger Church, rather than a separate denomination. The future of ecumenism may lie in a shift of definitions like that, as we are coming to see divisions in softer terms.

Inspired by Hans Küng, I long for a Catholic Church that is more conciliar in the way it makes decisions. Instead of emphasizing a strict monarchy of the pope, we should instead move back to an early Church approach that leans more on councils of bishops and grassroots decision making. An Orthodox friend has told me I should consider her Church, as they do not recognize papal authority in the way that Catholics do. I would simply say that I am rather a conciliar Catholic, and there is enough support for that approach to Church in our tradition to keep it as a vital possibility. In addition, inroads by Liberation Theologians, particularly at the Medellín Conference in 1968, give promise to a more bottoms-up approach to authority. The sensus fidelium--the sense of the faithful--has a role to play in magisterial authority, as the combined insights of all the faithful is theologically significant and is a force in the life of the Church. A rigid, papal-based system of authority is not the only tradition we have, even though it often gets the most attention.

I loved the Scripture courses as much as I thought I would. I began taking Hebrew language courses at the Methodist Theological Seminary, but with an outside job and other class responsibilities I was only able to complete a single semester. I am most impressed with some of the papers I wrote in those scripture courses. My technical mind came into play doing a word study on the book of Qohelet, and my final paper included a number of charts and diagrams of word usage and frequency. I loved taking the psalms apart and looking at them from various angles. My paper exploring literary devices in the Gospel of John stands as one of my proudest accomplishments.

The future is still up for grabs. I would love it if my work at the Columbus Catholic Worker could turn into full-time, paid employment. That would involve a development of more funding sources and administrative infrastructure. It would also challenge the charism of the organization, as Catholic Worker communities usually do not have paid staff and instead operate in Franciscan poverty. However, as the mission evolves, there is a possibility that we might move in that direction. I would like to continue my writing on community, theology and justice, and look for a larger audience. My passion for teaching is strong, and I have skills to share in both theology as well as writing/editing. I do not have other plans at the moment, but there is a limit to how long I will be able to continue without some kind of outside employment.

For the moment, my plan is to stay in Ohio, near my parents, friends and girlfriend. I realize that decision severely limits professional options, as ministry jobs are often available if one is willing to move. For the time being, I cannot imagine doing anything other than continuing with the Columbus Catholic Worker, and I want to see it through.

Whatsoever You Do

I grew up liking the song "Whatsoever You Do" by Williard F. Jabusch. It was often sung in Church. I always liked songs with themes of service and social justice.

It is an almost word-for-word adaptation of Matthew 25:

Whatsoever you do
to the least of my people,
that you do unto me.

When I was hungry, you gave me to eat;
When I was thirsty, you gave me to drink.
Now enter into the home of my father.

etc.

The difficulty is the last line. It has been hard on me the last several years, and it has affected my enjoyment of the song--Now enter into the home of my father.

I don't like thinking of Christian service in a rewards-punishment relationship. You do this service, you get this reward. If you help the poor, you'll go to heaven.

Nevertheless, there are consequences to our actions. Whatever we do will have a consequence, good, bad or indifferent. It is just hard to do the right thing for the right reasons when there are direct rewards and punishments in the way. I think it stunts our spiritual growth to dwell on that and to do good deeds in hopes of a reward or fear of the punishment.

Today, I had an insight that has helped me think about this differently. We the readers are the ones who are making this out to be about some kind of eternal rewards in the afterlife. The Gospels say the kingdom is now. You help the poor, you'll be living in God's home now. The joy is now. The quality of relationship is now. The impact is now. The prize is the gift itself, not (necessarily) some kind of pirate's treasure later on in heaven. The joy of participation in God's kingdom is the reward.

And maybe that is no different than the joys of heaven. Maybe my perception of heaven is that it is framed like the ultimate tropical vacation of feasting and good weather and non-stop parties. Cities of gold and all that. Heaven is sold to us like the ultimate drug trip, just constant euphoria. Maybe the Gospels are telling us not just how to get to heaven, but what heaven actually is.

Prayer as Petition

One of the most hotly contested issues in theology is the idea that humans can petition the Lord God in prayer.

It raises questions as to the nature of God. What kind of God do we have who is omniscient (and thus knows our thoughts in the first place) and all-powerful (who can do good in the world if He wants to), is all-loving, and yet allows suffering in the world, and yet will ease some of that suffering if people pray to Him and beg Him to do something different. Whew!

Many argue that praying changes the person praying more than it commands God to do anything. St. Augustine sees petitions as fanning the flame of our desires--the more we allow ourselves to thirst and yearn and beg and plead for something, the more our own energies of desire are strengthened, and they can become transformative.

Yet, many have also attested to the power of prayer and can speak of many miracles and certainly uncanny coincidences. They feel the presence of God in their lives. Prayer seems to have an effect that goes beyond simply changing the behavior of the praying person. I can attest to this, as well.

My take on it is this: I see it more energetically. The Spirit of God is like a river, flowing in and through the universe with a strong current. We are all a part of this, but sometimes in greater or lesser ways. When we pray, we orient ourselves to God, like a flower following the sun. We tap into this current of God. As a result, we flow with God and thus can tap into the creative energies of God better. We resonate with God better. The current of God is thus more alive in our lives because we are tuned in. God can work more through us and ripple off to the others in our lives who are connected to us.

Prayer does not simply command God. Prayer also does not simply change ourselves. Prayer orients us to the current of the Spirit, allowing us to breathe more in the Spirit and manifest the Spirit more in our lives. It puts us into a good groove.

Pecking Order

I remember asking my dad if we could have backyard chickens back when I was growing up. I thought it would be fun to have chickens running around. His answer: "They'll shit everywhere!"

That was as far as that went.

Erin has been raising three chickens in her backyard for the past few months or so. Normally, I am not thrilled about having pets at this stage of life, as the workload and every day commitment can be a strain--weekend trips, late nights and coming and going at odd hours can be difficult if an animal is relying on you back home for food and companionship. However, these chickens are pretty easy to maintain.

They stand ready at the gate of their coop to be let out to roam every morning. Her backyard is multi-faceted and full of different terrains--tall weeds, bushes, tilled-up garden, flower beds--anything a chicken would want. They spend all day eating grass, bugs, grubs, compost or bird food, which makes me quite happy as the less they eat of the stock chicken feed the more healthy and nutritious their eggs will be. It also makes us more environmentally responsible as grain feed involves lots of transportation costs and has a carbon footprint.

At first, they didn't seem to be as messy as my dad predicted. However, as the weeks and months go on and the longer the chickens peck around the yard the more prophetic I realize my dad's words were. I have left a pair of shoes there strictly for backyard use, if you get my drift.

It's also going to be a problem during the planting season of the garden. No issue with them walking around already-grown plants, but when the land is bare and we plant seeds, I have a feeling there will be some turf wars between us and them. Methinks they will have to be limited to a certain part of the yard until the garden gets a chance to grow.

I noticed that one of the chickens is treated poorly. When food is delivered, the others try to squeeze her out and keep her away. I intervene and try to establish justice, but there's only so much a guy can do. I talked with Andy about this, and he related some gruesome stories about pecking order. Sometimes chickens will abuse a single chicken so bad that it gets utterly depressed, deprived and even dies from the treatment. Then they move on to the next, most vulnerable chicken. His words have haunted me for weeks.

It makes me have some serious doubts about animal (and human) nature. I tend to believe that our God-given nature is a key to our personal growth. I don't buy into that ugly strain of Christian theology that holds that our natures are utterly depraved and that we must forcibly resist our innate urges in order to be good. I hold a more holistic, modern approach that we can work with our natures in harmony and outgrow petty issues. This isn't to say that we are rosy-cheeked angels at all times, but it does mean that working with our nature is the path to growth, not working against.

I've seen pecking orders in many groups I've been in. I was in a rock band a number of years ago. There was always one member who was "the problem." For a while it was our singer, until he left and then the new singer became the new "problem." When he left, the three remaining members identified someone else from among ourselves, then when he left and there were two of us remaining, I was targeted and I knew it was time for me to be outta there. It wasn't that we were trying to bully, but there was something about focusing our angst on one member to weed out who we perceived as the weakest link. The complaints about that person were always valid, too, but there was something about the way in which it was done that concerns me. It is also amazing that the whole group was able to feel very unified while that "problem" member was present, but when he left the remaining members started being upset with someone who they had previously gotten along with!

Had we reached out and tried to work together, we might have been able to stick together as a band rather that always weeding out people as the way to solve a problem. Had we been more driven in our mission--rather than directing our energy toward picking each other apart--we could have moved forward together.

And maybe that's the key--we do have some issues in human nature that we have to work with. We can pick each other apart, for better and for worse. But if we remember to focus that same problem-solving energy on our mutual mission, maybe we can work through stuff. In this band, we were not even overtly mean to these people, but our level of angst with them probably created an environment that made them feel unwelcome and made it hard for us to work through problems.

Just because we should work with our human natures does not mean everything is perfect in our human natures. It is probably more about redirecting the same impulses for good rather than for not. The person is not the problem-some behaviors are. We should still focus on problem, but with the goal of working through them rather than culling the whole person from the herd.

The Freedom of Jail

There's a line in a Civil Rights protest song that goes:

"I ain't scared of your jail, cause I want my freedom."

I heard it on the Pete Seeger album, We Shall Overcome: The Complete Carnegie Hall Concert. Great album, by the way.

It is such a simple line that maybe the deeper meaning can be lost if one doesn't pay attention. Isn't it counter-intuitive to want freedom so bad that you risk jail? Isn't jail, like, all about losing your freedom?

It gives insight to the spiritual depth of the Civil Rights movement. Life can be a ledger sheet--you weigh the pro's and con's and try to come up with the best possible solution considering all variables. You live with what you can and try to eek out for yourself the best possible circumstance given all variables.

Then others end up in some place that doesn't make sense to that account sheet. Folks love life so much they are willing to risk losing it. Folks want freedom so bad they are willing to lose it. Folks want the hungry fed so much they are willing to go on a fast.

If you try to hold that up against some standard of measured productivity objectives, it isn't going to be deemed sensible. Yet, the greatest saints and leaders for social change did these very insensible things.

Christianity often comes up with theologies that are all screwed up and they miss the point. There have been strains of Christianity over the centuries that have deplored the goodness of creation, imagining that the human body or sexuality were a bad thing. Others have wanted to follow Christ's passion and death so much that they were not just willing but actually eager to die. But true martyrs die because they love life, not because they are in a hurry to lose it. Some people misinterpret the suffering that many Christians have historically gone through--martyrdom, or the fasting and deprivation that many monastic communities have supported--to be a sign of hating this life or hating the human body or creation.

Martyrdom is the opposite of suicide. A suicidal person thinks they have nothing left to lose. A martyr probably feels that he has everything to lose and everything to gain. As G. K. Chesterton pointed out, Christianity has a bad history when it comes to a lack of compassion on people who commit suicide--yet it loves martyrs. While there should be compassion to suicidal people, particularly now the more we understand about mental illness, Chesterton is at least able to understand why there is such a cold shoulder given: Suicidal people hate life, martyrs love life.

The danger can come in when you follow any strain of theology too far and get too literal with it. It is easy to start off and say that "God is the souce of all goodness" and end up saying that logically speaking, if that is true then all creation must be a totally depraved place with no goodness in it. Well, God said that creation is good, too. Is it good because God flows in and through it, or does it have instrinsic goodness in it? It is hard to say and various theologies take that in different directions. Somehow a love of God is tied to a love of life. Somehow loving God and loving neighbor become the foundation of Christianity, and perhaps they are not two separate guidelines but actually one expression. Somehow charity and good deeds are tied to religion, somehow, deep down, we know this.

ADDED LATER: Another way to look at it is that the person in the song won't let the fear of jail imprison them. Sometimes the very threat of being in jail is enough to paralyze people and cause them to back down out of fear. The person in the song refuses to let their spirit be chained like that--imprison the body if you can, but the spirit will always be free! Hang him on the cross, if you can, but his spirit will rise!

The Early Church

I have often heard about the "Early Church"--its values, its sense of community, its commitment to justice, its closeness to the roots of Christianity. People use it to back up their claims, "the Early Church did this, the Early Church did that."

Still, I was hesitant to take a course of the Church Fathers. So often, they are quoted in reference to some debate on the nature of the Trinity or some monotonous theological speculation. Many of their works haven't been translated for a century, so you end up reading them in wordy Victorian English with not quite enough paragraph separations to keep your eyes open.

I have to admit that I was pleasantly surprised by the Church Fathers in my recent class. In so many ways, they remind me of those in the modern peace & justice movements, those in base communities in Latin America or others who have the wisdom honed through facing persecution and struggle. They do have a lot of theological speculation. But they were also truly holy men.

None of these Fathers were pure academic theologians in the modern sense of the world. They were preachers, monks, bishops, many faced martyrdom or lived a severe life of sacrifice in order to follow their Christian call. They seem to embody what many Liberation Theologians today say: To really do theology requires the involvement of our whole being. Theology is always woefully inadequate when turned into a detached mental exercise, confined to the dry halls of academia.

These are some of my favorite quotes about charity and justice, not necessarily in chronological order. I've been quoting some of these on the Columbus Catholic Worker blog:


Tertullian, d. 222 A.D. :

I shall now speak about the characteristics of the Christian society. Each month, if he likes, each puts in a small donation, and only if he is able: for all is voluntary... These gifts are not spent on feasts, and drinking, but to support and bury poor people, to supply the needs of poor children and orphans, and of old persons confined to the house. We help those who have suffered shipwreck, people in exile, or those imprisoned because of their fidelity to God's Church...

"See," they say, "how they love one another."--from The Apology


St. Justin Martyr, d. 165 A.D., says almost the same thing:

The wealthy among us help the needy; and we always keep together... Those who are able and willing give what each thinks fit. What is collected is deposited with the president, who helps the orphans and widows. He also helps those who, through sickness or any other cause, are in need. Those who are in prison, and strangers staying among us: he takes care of all who are in need.--from The First Apology

St. Basil the Great, c. 329-379

O man, be like the earth. Bear fruit like her and do not fall short of what mere inanimate matter can achieve. The earth bears crops not for her own benefit but for yours. You, on the other hand, when you give to the poor, are bearing fruit which you will gather in for yourself, since the reward for good deeds goes to those who perform them. Give to a hungry man, and what you give becomes yours, and indeed it returns to you with interest. Just as the wheat that falls on the ground falls there to the great profit of the one who sowed it, so the bread given to a hungry man will bring you great profit in the world to come. Let your husbandry be aimed at sowing this heavenly seed: as scripture says, Sow integrity for yourselves.

You are going to leave your money behind you here whether you want to or not. As for whatever share of glory you have received through your good works, that you can take with you to the Lord. All the people will stand round you in the presence of him who judges you all: they will acclaim you as one who feeds the hungry and gives to the poor, they will name you as a merciful benefactor.

Do you not see how people throw away their wealth for a moment’s glory, for the shouts and praise of the crowds in the theatre, at sporting events, at fights with wild beasts in the arena? Where can you get that sort of glory for yourself if you hold on to your money or spend it meanly? God will give his approbation; the angels will praise you; all people who have existed since the beginning of the world will call you blessed. You will receive eternal glory and the crown of righteousness as a prize for rightly disposing of your wealth – wealth that in any case cannot last and must decay.

Why do you think nothing of the future hopes that are stored up by those who despise the cares of the present time? Come, spread your wealth around, be generous, give splendidly to those who are in need. Then it will be said of you as it is in the psalms: He gave alms and helped the poor: his righteousness will endure for ever.

How grateful you should be to your own benefactor; how cheerful you should be at the honour he has conferred on you, that you do not have to make a nuisance of yourself at other people’s doors, but other people come and bother you at your own! But at the moment you are grumpy and no-one can get to you. You avoid meeting people in case you might be obliged be part with even a little of what you have. You can say only one thing: “I have nothing to give you. I am only a poor man.” Indeed you are poor and utterly destitute. Poor in love, poor in humanity, poor in faith in God, and destitute of any hope of eternal happiness.

St. Gregory of Nyssa, c. 335-395 A.D.

Let us consider what peace is. Surely it is nothing else but a loving disposition towards one's neighbor. What is the opposite of love? It is hate and wrath, anger and envy, harboring resentment as well as hypocrisy and the calamity of war. Do you see how many different diseases this single word is an antidote? Peace is equally opposed to every one of the things mentioned, and wipes out these evils by its own presence.--from Sermon 7 on the Beatitudes


St. John Chrysostom, c. 347-407 A.D.

In order that you may wear one pearl drop, countless poor people are suffering from hunger. What excuse will you make for it? Do you wish to adorn your face? Do so not with pearls, but with modesty, and dignity... Take off all ornament and place it in the hands of Christ through the poor.--from Second Baptismal Instruction

If you wish to show kindness, you must not require an accounting of a person's life, but merely correct his poverty and fill his need... Need alone is the poor person's worthiness.. We do not provide for the manners but for the person. We show mercy on people not because of their virtue but because of their misfortunes.-- from the Second Sermon on Lazarus and the Rich Man


Pope St. Leo the Great, c. 400-461 A.D.

What is so suitable to faith, so much in harmony with godliness as to assist the poverty of the needy, to undertake the care of the weak, to help the needs of others, and to remember one's own condition in the toils of others. Not only are spiritual riches and heavenly gifts received from God, but earthly and material possessions also proceed from His bounty. These things He has not so much put in our possession as committed to our stewardship. God's gifts we much use properly and wisely, lest the material for good work should become an occasion of sin. Wealth, after its kind and regarded as a means, is good and is of the greatest advantage to human society, when it is in the hands of the benevolent and open-handed, and when the luxurious man does not squander nor the miser hoard it. Whether ill-stored or unwisely spent it is equally lost.--from Sermon 10 on Almsgiving


St. Benedict, d. 543 A. D., father of Medieval monasticism

All guests are to be received as Christ himself. He himself said: "I was a stranger and you took Me in" [Matt 35:35]. To all, fitting honor shall be shown, but, most of all, to servants of the faith and to pilgrims. When a guest is announced, the abbot or brothers shall run to meet him, with every service of love. First they shall pray together and thus shall be joined together in peace... Christ, who is received in them, shall be adored.--from The Rule


Picture above is of Sts. Basil the Great, John Chrysostom and Gregory Nazianzen

Creeds and Deeds

Mystical Seeker mentioned a church that professes to be about "deeds rather than creeds."

It is easy to understand the appeal of such a statement--wanting a church that is more about actions than talking, more about justice than empty dogma.

However, creeds are inevitable. At some point, any group of people has to be about something. That means, by default, they are not about something else. Every group has some kind of organizing principle, something they rally around. Even churches out there that profess to be "non-creedal" often have a mission statement, criteria for membership and a list of values.

Ironically, "deeds rather than creeds" is, in fact, a creed.

Creeds are unpopular because a lot of folks grew up in churches where dogma was rammed down their throats by folks who hardly even understood what they were preaching. Something like the Nicene Creed becomes just an empty statement about abstract theology that hardly makes sense or has any relevance to life. The Creed just looks like an assertion of power and conformity, rather than an educational opportunity and a chance for a group to pass down traditions. It becomes like the Pledge of Allegiance--just a patriotism test.

The amazing thing is that every social justice statement of the Christian churches comes directly out of the creedal statements. The "deeds" they are talking about are derived from the "creeds." It just takes a lot of theology to see how that all works.

Charity and social justice are fundamental to Christian theology. However, they are rooted in something much deeper--our very concept of God: God as Trinity. God as something other than us. God Incarnate into human existence. Creation as a gift that didn't have to be. All these most basic, fundamental notions--axioms--of orthodox Christian theology all feed directly--and explain--the impulse to "do good."

How can the concept of Trinity compel us to act toward social justice, for example?

Tradition has handed down the belief that God is one. Tradition has also handed down the belief that God is three--Father, Son and Spirit. How can both be true? Christians wrestled with this and came up with an understanding that our God is Trinity--one and three at the same time.

St. Gregory of Nyssa does a good job of making the connections in his Sermon on the Beatitudes 7. God as Trinity is the living embodiment of unity in diversity, because the Trinity is truly one, but also distinct in three-ness, too. Christ says, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God" (New American Bible Matthew 5:9). God is a force of peace, maintaining distinctions but in perfect unity. When peacemakers are able to bring this about, they are, in a sense, doing something very fundamentally God-like--easing divisions without tampering with the dignity of individuals. They earn the right to be called children of God because they are manifesting what God is.


The very reason we think that being a peacemaker is a good thing is because it jives with how we understand how God and the world relate. The fact that everyone calls God "Our Father" is an outrageously radical statement. If God is the Father to all, then that must mean that all are sisters and brothers, and if we are all family it helps us understand our deep kinship and responsibilities to each other.


I recently took a class on Catholic Social Teaching. During the whole semester, I struggled with the reading choices of the professor. You would think that we'd be reading and endless stack of papal encyclicals on justice and getting into the nitty gritty of how to approach issues as a moral dilemma. And we did some of that. But we also spent an outrageous amount of time reading some rather abstract theology that was all about axioms of Christianity.


One book was The God of Faith and Reason by Robert Sokolowski. It was all about "the Christian distinction"--the idea that God is other than us and that Creation is a gift that never had to be. These are some of the most basic truths on top of which the entire Abrahamic tradition is based. The idea that God did not have to create the world means that God did it as a gift. As a result, the only proper response from us is gratitude. This sense of gratitude is at the foundation of our respect for the world and for the fruits of Creation. After the semester was over, I finally understood why this book was chosen and why it was more important to understand this concept than to have a cursory understanding of the minutiae of the papal encyclicals.

I'm suspicious of a church that is about "deeds rather than creeds." I would want to know which deeds they value and why. If they don't have an answer to that, then that leaves a couple of options: Either they have a very innocent instinct to do service that they can't explain, or else they are leaving the heavy lifting to other churches who have worked out the theology. If the latter is true, this church exists in orbit around the orthodox Christian churches and cannot exist with them.

Womens Ordination--in a Nutshell

In honor of Fr. Roy Bourgeois' upcoming talk here in Columbus on the topic of the ordination of women to the priesthood of the Catholic Church, I am reminded of a statement I heard in a skit in a faraway place, a long, long time ago:

Tis more important to pee like Jesus,

than it is to be like Jesus

And after all the theological mumbo jumbo has been written, discussed, scoffed at, denounced and propped up, after all the cards have been played and the men with pointy hats have stomped their feet, it really and truly just boils down to the above statement.

I have written about this topic before and I can bat down the arguments as fast as they can throw them up, and while I tend to avoid bumper-stick slogans I will have to concede that on this point the slogan really sums it up for me.

Let me go as far as to say that I think the Catholic Church will go a long ways to ending abortion when women have the equality in society they were intended for by their Creator. The desire for abortion rights, from my perspective, often comes out of a deep pain that women have for not feeling like they are in control over their own lives. In my view, abortion rights are an improper response to this pain. But I think that when women have the standing in society they were meant for, the discussion about abortion will enter a much better phase than it is right now--it won't be driven as much by the pain of inequality.

Inconsistent Pro-Life People

People betray themselves by their inconsistencies. Not that any of us is perfectly consistent, but inconsistency certainly raises some eyebrows and starts people asking questions.

Take the recent controversy over Obama speaking at Notre Dame. Some were infuriated that a pro-choice president like Obama was given the attention and honors he got, given that the Catholic Church is decidedly pro-life.

On the one hand, this could deserve some congratulations. When many churches are accused of trying to be "all things to all people," here you have one that is willing to take a stand. Perhaps this is something to be proud of.

The anti-abortion stance of the Catholic Church is rooted in a respect for life--all life, all the time, everywhere. There are many Catholics who take a hard line stance on abortion, allowing no if's, and's or but's about it. To them, abortion is wrong and that's all there is to it. Okay, that's a respectable stance. Then ask them about war... euthanasia... the death penalty... these are often considered "negotiable."

Many of these folks who would not support abortion under any circumstances seem to have little regard for the dropping of thousands of megatons of explosives on foreign nations--bombs which kill, most certainly, a number of unborn babies. You may remember that George W Bush--the unrepentant architect of those very actions--also spoke at Notre Dame without a peep from the pro-life contingency.

The inconsistency of the response of folks at Notre Dame reflects a trend that you can see elsewhere among some American Catholics--not all, but some.

It seems that the people I am describing are not pro-life. They seem to be anti-abortion, they have a particular call and desire to stop abortions for whatever reason. Maybe they just like unborn babies and really want to crusade for them. Fine with me. But when it comes to truly understanding what the Church is calling us to understand when it comes to respect for all life, they don't get it.

To narrow the pro-life movement to just abortion is to miss the whole point--all life, all the time, everywhere. The crippled and able. The living and dying. The young and old, born and unborn, healthy and sick, smart and dumb, friend and enemy, neighbor and foreigner, guilty and not guilty, you name it. Life is a gift from God and must be respected through all its phases and manifestations--none is greater or more deserving of their life than another.