You know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but on this Pro Life weekend, I really didn’t know what to say today. Every time I started to write one thing about the March For Life, two other concerns came to the fore. This was an issue that I used to look at in very black and white terms when I was younger. Then I got to a point where I could only see it in terms in gray. Now I guess I am at a point where I look at it in terms of black and white…and gray.
At first glance it’s a black and white issue, an open and shut case, there’s really not much more to discuss. And I have to say that this past October, I was given the amazing gift of two nieces — each from my two sisters — and I even got to be in the room for the birth of one of them. During Christmas I got to hold each one of them in my arms and during that moment, the sacredness and holiness of each life could not have been more clear.
But then I was on Facebook yesterday…procrastinating from my studies a little bit…and I saw someone make the comment that the Church cares about the unborn but not about the concerns of women. At first I was a little taken aback. The Catholic Church is one of the largest — if not the largest — provided of services to those in need. Catholic Charities, Catholic Relief Services, and endless stream of hospitals and homeless shelters…those things that often get overlooked when the media discusses the Church. But then I thought about…traffic.
As some of you might know, I live over in the Northwest part of DC right by Catholic University and the Shrine of the National Basilica on 4th Street Northeast. And …
When you study to be a priest, attending Mass is as much of a part of one’s routine as brushing your teeth and applying deodorant. It may not happen EVERY single day, but it usually happens every day.
Anyway I mention this because I consider myself to be a pretty connected person in terms of news events; what I do not learn through my iPhone, I typically pick up during church. When you go to a Mass in which most in attendance feel free to vocalize the thoughts, concerns, and groanings in their souls, it can serve as a regular RSS feed on what is going on in the world. And, ironically, it was in this manner that I learned that the famed-atheist Christopher Hitchens had passed.
I struggled to write this reflection for a while; I was actually asked to do it two weeks ago. On the one hand I cannot claim to have read much of Hitchens’ material, so it seemed unfair to comment on the life of someone of whom I was only tangentially familiar. I had seen him on Bill Maher a few times and while I may not have always agreed with his conclusions — I’ve made a bad career choice if I did — but I usually liked the perspective from which he came. Smart. Concerned about human rights. Willing to critique those in power irrespective of affiliation. Kind-of cynical, which is not always a deal breaker for me. But unlike some, I had no strong reaction to his passing per se.
What I found myself having a reaction to was the response others had to his passing. Specifically, when someone decided to pray for his soul during Mass. It wasn’t as though I thought Hitchens was undeserving of prayers. Indeed, it is often the most undeserving who are most in need of requests for divine intervention. But, and I know this might sound odd coming from a future man of the cloth, but it sounded a bit…presumptuous…when someone prayed for his soul. It was …
My wonderful five-year-old nephew has been asking questions about a certain topic the past few months. He has been talking with all of these boys at school and my sister—his mother—decided that he was ready. And I have to say that I am flattered that both her and her husband decided that I would be the best person to shepherd him across this very important Rite of Passage. And so this Christmas break, I will be introducing my nephew to the Star Wars movies.
This is not a responsibility I take lightly. There are many questions. For example, do I start like I started, with original Star Wars (now known as “Episode 4”)… or do I start him with the prequels? If I do start him with the original trilogy, do I show him the Special Editions or do get the original versions? You know, the one where Gredo doesn’t shoot first? Do I try to avoid the whole Jar Jar Binks thing? I know that I’m only talking to about half of the people out there right now but these are tough questions. It’s during these moments that I really empathize with all of the parents out there and the hard decisions you all have to make.
But no matter which Star Wars movie we’re talking about, they all start with the same opening phrase. “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”
“A long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away.” “Once upon a time.” “Twas a long time ago, longer now than it seems, in a place that you’ve seen perhaps in your dreams.” These are all phrases that that begin myths. Myths are stories that speak to the condition of our soul, that seek to enlighten our spiritual lives, and communicate some truth that we might not be able to grasp otherwise.
Of course, there’s a certain abstract nature to myths. We don’t specifically know when and where they take place… and it’s not necessarily important to the spiritual truths that the myths are trying to express. In …
Sarah Josepha Hale was an American writer and an influential editor throughout most of the 19th Century and while most writers would be thrilled to be able to claim having made one major impact on American culture, Sarah Joseph Hale can claim to have made two. First impact came in 1830 when she published the nursery rhyme “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” The second impact; Sarah Josepha Hale is credited as the individual most responsible for making Thanksgiving a national holiday in the United States in 1863.
Of course, Sarah Josepha Hale was not responsible for the Thanksgiving holiday itself. Even before the now famous pilgrims celebrated the feast in Plymouth, Massachusetts in 1621, Spaniards conducted the first documented thanksgiving feasts in what is now the United States in the 16th century. And while days of thanksgiving were celebrated sporadically in different parts of the country in the first few decades of America’s foundation, there was no regular day of thanks set-aside. Remember, this was a time before the Hallmark Company and Car Dealerships flooded our great nation’s calendar with an endless stream of holidays.
But Sarah Josepha Hale thought such a national day of Thanksgiving would serve as a great unifying element for the country. So in 1846 she wrote a letter to the then-President of the United States Zachary Taylor. No response. So she continued her letter writing campaign for the next 17 years. Finally, Abraham Lincoln, after reading one of her letters, set forth a proclamation on October 3, 1863 that a national day of Thanksgiving would be held on the fourth Thursday in November.
But you know what I find most fascinating about that proclamation… the timing. In the Fall of 1863, we were still in the midst of the Civil War. The war had been dragging on for over two years, which was about twenty-three months longer than most people thought it would last. The loss of life had far exceeded any war the country had fought in before, there was no end in sight, and no one knew for sure how it was going to turn out. …
“We believe that people with passion can change the world for the better.”
This summer, I spent a lot of time in a room that overlooked the graves of Sam Adams, John Hancock, and the parents of Benjamin Franklin. And also with me in that room, along with the ghosts of the American Revolution, was my new 21.5-inch iMac with the 2.5GHz Core i5 processor, the invention of another American revolutionary.
I share the processor speed because, as any Mac nerd would know, this machine is on the lowest end iMacs one can currently purchase. But even so, it cuts through the processing of HD video like Bill Clinton would a plate of pork chops. It was in this room in Boston that I was working on my first documentary film. And there was this moment in the middle of editing footage I had shot that day on the new Final Cut Pro that I realized that it would have been impossible for me to do the kind of film that I was trying to do 20 years ago in the rather minimalist way that I was trying to do it.
Being a filmmaker was a dream that I had had ever since I was a kid. I was born at exactly the right time for Star Wars to capture my imagination, for Superman the Movie to make me believe I could fly, and for Raiders of the Lost Ark to give me my first — albeit shaky and supernatural — introduction to the Old Testament. But the concern, in those days of course, was that in order to make film, one would either need to hit the big time in Southern California — which held the possibility of ending up as a cautionary tale on the next E! True Hollywood Story — or NOT hit the big time in Southern California, which would have the same ending as the E! True Hollywood Story minus the cable television remembrance. Neither outcome seemed particularly desirable.
But if Southern California gave our generation a whole new set of visions, Northern California …
I probably shouldn’t say this, but I REALLY do not like the Sunday Gospel… the one where Jesus says that you have to forgive “not seven times but seventy-seven times.“ I think today, I’d rather read a Gospel like Luke 17:1, where Jesus says, “Things that cause sin will inevitably occur, but woe to the person through whom they occur. It would be better for him if a millstone were put around his neck and he be thrown into the sea than for him to cause one of these little ones to sin.”
A question that has been asked of a lot of people over the past few days is, “Where were you ten years ago today?” I was walking into work—with a cup of Dunkin Donuts in my hand—and without having heard what was going on an office worker asked me if I was ready to go to war. Like everyone, I called family to make sure that they were alright. Like many people but not everyone, I found out that they were okay. And like a lot of other people, I had an overwhelming desire to go to church, to receive the comfort that only church can provide. Many needed the comfort of church because they had lost loved ones. But everyone who went needed the comfort of a God who offered a vision of a world that was infinitely different from the madness of the world that was suddenly around us all. We needed comfort amidst the sudden loss of normality.
But in the midst of all of the retrospectives about that day ten years ago, the memories from ANOTHER day have also been creeping into my head: the night of Sunday, May 1st. I was working on an end-of-the-school-year project for this class and—as I am sometimes wont to do when I have a big assignment—I was procrastinating on some of the news web sites when the early reports started coming in that Osama Bin …
“Are they my poor? I tell thee, thou foolish philanthropist, that I grudge the dollar, the dime, the cent I give to such men as do not belong to me and to whom I do not belong.”
When I first read those words by Ralph Waldo Emerson in his essay on Self-Reliance, I was a junior in West Morris Central High School and — coming of age in upper-middle class New Jersey — had never met a poor person and didn’t really know anything about poverty. What I did know a lot about was being an awkward teenager who cared way too much about what others thought of him and spending a lot of time by myself. So when I read further in Emerson’s essay on the importance of being an individual, a chord was struck. “To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men — that is genius.” From that moment on, more and more of my “psychic eggs” were placed into the basket labeled “individuality.”
Don’t ask me what a psychic egg is…I’m just trying to make a point.
I carried a book of Emerson’s essays when I went off to college in Baltimore. That same book followed me to Arizona after college, then to El Paso, then back to Baltimore, and eventually to Washington DC when I started seminary. In the beginning, the book would regularly find itself of my nightstand, having a couple of its pages flipped through before going to sleep.
But as the years went by, I slowly began to see the limits of a philosophy governed so strongly by the importance of the individual, the value in sometimes “going along to get along,” and that sometimes it can be more important to trade in a personal value if it makes the life of the whole a little better. I also encountered people over those years who could be classified as poor…and while I don’t know if I would use the words “my poor,” I would say that I gained a deeper …
As my summer draws to a close, I’ve been reflecting on my feelings of starting a new year of seminary.
In order to answer the question, “Am I looking forward to going back to seminary?” it’s probably best to relay a conversation that I recently had with one of the Paulist priests. It was a simple conversation that happened a few weeks ago; I bumped into this Paulist with whom I am friends in DC while I was staying in Boston for the summer. He asked me if I was looking forward to my upcoming ordination. I replied that I was. Very much so. Because then I wouldn’t have to be in seminary any more.
My answer was not that I would finally get to serve the people. My answer was not that I could shine the love of God outward into a darkened world. It was that I would not have to be in seminary any more.
I know, I know. On some level I am supposed to say what a grace-filled time this is, what a blessing it is for me to have the opportunity to grow as a person, that all of God’s gifts are good, blah, blah, blah. And yes, there is indeed truth in the descriptions that fall under the category of “nicety,” but after five years of poking, prodding, and stretching, I’m getting a little tired. And if Kevin Arnold from The Wonder Years has taught us anything, it’s that after a while, growing gets kind of old.
Priestly formation can often feel like 10 different people are grabbing 10 different fingers and pulling in different directions, with each one shouting, “Grow spiritually! Grow intellectually! Be open to relationships! Watch your boundaries! Exercise more! Work harder! Take time out! Imagine swirled peas!” Constantly switching gears to all of the different areas you are expected to grow in, legitimate and illegitimate, gets exhausting after a while. You just get tired of reading the car manual and just want to take the car out for a spin already.
So, no, I’m not looking forward to going back to seminary.
When 10,000 Maniacs visited Loyola College in Maryland in 1990, I did not go. As a college freshman who was only a few months removed from the “Hair Metal” culture that then dominated Northern New Jersey, I was not able to comprehend a band whose female lead singer used dramatically less “Aqua Net” than the male lead singers I had been listening to. But lately, I have found myself nostalgic for music that I did not listen to “back in the day,” music that never found it’s way into my own stereo but was playing in the background in the rooms of those with more progressive musical tastes. Perhaps it’s because the music of Natalie Merchant, R.E.M., and the Sundays never had the opportunity to be overplayed in my Walkman that their connections to another part of my life remain strong.
On some level, it’s a little strange that my song of the summer is about a child’s vacation spent somewhere in Europe. I have spent the last two months in Boston, a city that began as a rejection of all things east of the Atlantic and “Verdi Cries” is not exactly a song that would ever be covered by Brian Wilson. But maybe because in a little over a month, I will be making my final promises to the Missionary Society of St. Paul (God willing) and a part of me feels like Wendy who has to leave the nursery and grow up tomorrow.
Of course, this is not the first time I have had to grow up, and it likely won’t be the last. But it’s hard not to be grateful for the gift of a summer to stop and rest. Going through the formation process to become a Catholic priest can at times feel as though five different people are grabbing each finger from one hand and pulling in five different directions with each person screaming the admonition, “Grow!” When personal reflection becomes part of your ongoing job description, opportunities to grow can quickly begin to feel …
The thing about studying theology, especially Catholic theology, is that you have to learn all of these new words… Greek words. Have you ever heard the phrase, “It’s all Greek to me?” Well, after three years of graduate study to become a priest, I am now convinced that that phrase originated with a theologian.
Of course, there’s nothing wrong with the Greek language in and of itself… it’s just that after a while, it’s hard not to wonder why one has to know so much of it in order to grow in one’s relationship with God. I mean, when I first heard the word “exegesis,” I originally thought meant those times when Jesus left the building. When my Scripture class threw the word “hermeneutic” at me, I was confused because I originally thought that the word meant the study of quiet, solitary people.
So what does all of this have to do with Clarence Clemons? Well, it’s because he helped me to understand one of the words added to my theological vocabulary this past year: anamnesis.
The word—which is a Greek derivative—means “to remember,” which might beg the question as to why those in theological circles don’t just use the phrase “to remember.” Well it’s because, as I’ve learned over time, that the meanings of words between languages often do not have a six-one half-dozen-other relationship. The word anamnesis does mean “to remember,” but not in the way someone might avoid forgetting to pick up the dry-cleaning. It means to remember in such a way as to make the “rememberer” fully present to that which is being remembered.
The word “anamnesis” was used in my Eucharist course in order to describe what happens to all of the faithful gathered during the Mass. In essence, during the celebration of the Lord’s Supper, we remember the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus in such a way that the saving event of his cross is made present to us… even if we weren’t physically in Jerusalem in the year 33…. so that we can participate in Jesus’ saving …
I was working on my homily that I would be giving on Pentecost Sunday and doing what I usually do when I am preparing homilies… procrastinating on the Internet. So while browsing Busted Halo’s offerings, I noticed that fellow blogger Monica Rozenfeld posted something on the Jewish festival of Shavuot.
As I’ve mentioned before, this past summer I worked as a chaplain in a New York hospital along side two rabbinical students. Having that experience gave me an even deeper appreciation for just how Jewish our Christian faith really is, especially the Catholic faith. All of this makes sense if you think about it… but, truth be told, until my theological studies and my experience this summer, I hadn’t really thought about it.
I love The Onion. I do. If there is one media source that I can go to at any given time and KNOW that I’m going to have at least one good laugh, it’s the Onion. I’ve been reading it for almost fifteen years, and I’m still amazed at how funny and biting it can be. You may agree with me on this, but the more I read the Onion and the more I watch the news, the more the “real” news headlines begin to remind me of The Onion’s fake headlines. I mean, do you remember the “Double Down” sandwich offered by KFC last year that did away with the bread and offered two fried chicken breasts instead with bacon and cheese in the middle? I swear it was not until I actually drove by a KFC a few days later that I was convinced that it wasn’t a gag headline along the lines of “New Taco Bell Menu Item Ready For Testing On Humans.”
I share this because between the various Facebook postings and news alerts I receive during my sporadic opportunities to watch TV these days, I’ve already heard way too much about the royal wedding happening today. As soon as I saw the headline, “Princess Diana and Kate Middleton: A tale of two princesses,” I was immediately reminder of the Onion’s “Nation Demands Fresh Celebrity Meat!”
The Onion article hilariously (and breathlessly) details the press’s unquenchable hunger for celebrities to devour, famously commenting that “we can no longer subsist vicariously on the travails and public deteriorations of Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears. These fetid idols are mere shreds of their former selves, and we, the American entertainment consumers, grow ever hungrier for a new crop of stars on which to feast.” On the other hand, the real news article about Diana and Kate breathlessly (and hilariously) details the press’s unquenchable hunger for celebrities to devour, famously commenting that “many wonder if relationship with the …
The scene: 10 eighth-grade religious education students, their teacher, and yours truly—a plucky seminarian who was brought in for “Vocation Awareness Day.” I talk, explaining the many ways we can all serve God in our lives, and that religious life is one of those ways — a very good way… yada, yada, yada. Are there any questions? A hand goes up. I graciously call on the inquisitive young child.
“Why are priests always so fat?”
It is important to note that there was still some sugar on my shirt from the doughnut I had just scarfed down after Mass… black clothes do a terrible job of hiding sugar. It is also important to note that the previous evening I had more than my fare share of Texas Barbecue at an establishment known as “The Salt Lick” and I can only guess as to how much brisket my system was still digesting. The morning before that I delighted in a jalapeno-and-cheese sausage breakfast burrito. At this point, I had gained eight pounds since arriving at my pastoral assignment with four months to go. That’s in addition to the ten pounds I had gained since joining religious life.
While I cannot claim to ever being known as a svelte human being, I have at times found it hard not to wince when looking at some of the “before” and “after” pictures from the last five years; specifically, the increased number of pixels it currently takes to adequately render a digital representation of my being. I did a quick calculation of the number of pounds I have gained per year since joining the Paulists. I eventually figured that if I continued at this pace, twenties years into my priesthood I would be decorating my lair with space smugglers encased in carbonite and telling young Jedi that their mind tricks will not work on me.
But of course, it is not just me. AND it is not just those of us who are in religious life. As it turns out, a recent study has been released that …
In today’s media environment, we invariably hear the stories about which things go wrong. I guess it’s human nature to focus on the negative, but the focus of news organizations do have its place. I think that when issues like the sex-abuse crisis continue to unfold, we do need to be reminded of it so that we don’t turn our eyes away from it, lest we conveniently skip over the lessons that we may have to absorb as a Church. I remember during Benedict’s visit a few years ago, a Catholic commentator was on television claiming that the Church sex-abuse crisis had been put behind her and now we could all move on… 18 months later it exploded again in Europe. Sadly, negativity has its place in the world.
That being said, I realized after writing my last post which focused on the letter a friend of mine wrote to me concerning the sex abuse crisis, it might be important to take a step back and share what I like about the Catholic Church. Because I can get stuck focusing on the wrongs of a person or the failures of an institution as much as anybody. I am more than capable of expelling gobs of self-righteous energy over issues that include (but are not limited to) the failure of McDonald’s to provide breakfast after 10:30 a.m. But the danger is that while I can get so stuck on the negative things, in the process I can frequently miss the Quarter-Pounder with Cheese through the fries.
So for this post, I’d like to open up a conversation around this question: what do you like about your faith? This is a conversation in which anyone and everyone is welcome to participate and it can be for whatever reason; the reason you share can come from the depths of your soul, or it can be just a fun factoid of your life that others outside of your tradition might not get to participate.
For example, if you are Wicken, you might feel a certain sense of ownership …
I recently heard that the second priest to have ever dined in my parents’ home had been implicated in sex abuse scandal. As a former child abuse prosecutor and now mother of four, it has been a particularly difficult question to answer why stay in light of the crimes committed by an astounding number of priests and the subsequent systemic cover up by members of the hierarchy…
So began the letter of an old college friend with whom I have recently connected on Facebook. This friend has been an active member of the Catholic Church for as long as I’ve known her; in college she served as a sponsor for RCIA and after college she spent a year as a full-time volunteer. As the note continued, she did make a point of saying that she had not left the church and she is indeed making sure that her children are being raised in the faith. Still, the frustration was there… and I recognized it because it is the same frustration that I have also been trying to move beyond.
For years, the scandal and the ensuing cover-up served as one of the main reasons I resisted joining the priesthood… hence the name of the blog “Kicking and Screaming.” Like my friend, I saw the scandal as the result of a systemic issue, a mode of thinking in which clergy were viewed to be above the fray and a particular understanding of church infallibility was seen as something that had to be defended at all costs. In other words, I did not see it as the actions of a few bad apples that happened to commit some grievous sins that could be easily isolated from the rest of the bunch; I saw it as basically an attitude of church first, flock second. Consequently, it made me wonder what would happen to my soul if I should more deeply enter into that system. Much like how one might refuse to visit the site Groupon.com after their infamous Super Bowl commercial about Tibet, during …
In retrospect, I realize it wasn’t fair that the shooting in Arizona two weeks ago was immediately blamed on the poisonous quality our political discourse has taken over the past number of years. But I also can’t lie — my knee jerk reaction on hearing about the shooting was that the crime was indeed a crazed ideologue committing this heinous act. And the fact that I was far from being alone in making that immediate assumption does bespeak of a larger issue going on in the nation.
While wrestling with the question of how to proceed, I spotted a bumper sticker. It said, “Don’t Drink and Derive… Alcohol and Calculus Don’t Mix.” That one didn’t help me out too much, but then I saw another bumper sticker that seemed to help me: “WWJD?”
Indeed, “What Would Jesus… um… Discourse?” Though I’m certain the bumper sticker meant another more quaint phrase we’re all familiar with, it did get me thinking. I began to reflect on the nice version of Jesus on which I was raised. You know, the James Taylor version who always wore Birkenstocks and sang John Denver songs. This is the Jesus who says in the Gospel of Luke, “Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?” And it is that sentiment that appears to be missing from much of our political debates… and even some of our religious debates. That moment when the person who is making the argument steps back and wonders if she or he really does have the complete truth. After reflecting on that passage, I felt good about striving to live the life the “James Taylor” Jesus would have me lead.
But then, I started reading other chapters in the Bible. And a very different picture emerged. It turns out that Jesus IS in fact a lot like James Taylor… if James Taylor were a rude dinner guest, insulting his hosts and trashing public places because he doesn’t like the vendors. In fact, in a …
While I adore the parish at which I am serving this year, I sometimes wonder if it is run by Quakers rather than Catholics. Because at the beginning of Daily Masses at my Church, only the priest seems to have an assigned role.
Of course roles are much more defined during the Sunday services, but for whatever reason the role of lector and Eucharistic minister at my church is left to whomever the Spirit moves during the week; daily Masses are usually characterized by the assembled faithful giving each other looks that communicate after the Opening Prayer is finished, “Are you going to do it? Do you want me to go up? Are you sure?”
Partially because I like to read and also partially because I am the seminarian, I usually walk up if other people have not suggested (verbally or non-verbally) that they would like to read. Except this past Monday another wrench was thrown into the service after I approached the altar; when I walked up to the lectern, the book was not put out.
And it’s not as if this was necessarily a national disaster—the 5:20 evening crowd tends to be a laid-back bunch who don’t freak out at liturgical emergencies—but at that moment I had a decision to make… because hanging off my right belt loop was my trusty iPhone.
A few months ago I bought through the iTunes Store Universalis, an app that allows you to view the prayers and the liturgical readings for the entire Roman Catholic calendar right on your iPhone. Before I invested in this neat little app, I used to have to carry my very thick, very heavy Book of Christian Payer whenever I traveled; now all of the prayers I ever need can be found in my own little 32 gigabytes of heaven. Also included: the daily readings for Mass.
Now, the presiding priest is a very good friend of mine. He is also more of a tech-head than I am. I give him a look and reach for my phone. Through the unspoken communication that can only take place …
I realize that in my last post, I might have come off as kind of a grump… exams and papers will do that to you. Not that I take back anything that I said regarding the importance of Advent or the true awfulness of the song “Last Christmas,” but when I hit the “Send” button on my last paper of the semester this past Saturday, the holidays began for me!
Still, after my last post I do feel the need to prove that I am not a total Mr. Potter. In fact, it’s because I like Christmas music so much that I can’t stand when it is co-opted in order to give second-rate musical artists a shot towards achieving some “American Idol” style mediocrity. So with that in mind, I would like to offer what I will be playing on my iPhone this holiday season!
Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGVNzgUxE-g
Made me proud to be Gen X! Modern, fun, and reverent… not an easy hat trick but the Canadian artists pull it off.
Jack Skelington: What’s This?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZuWD-mSUtrU
“This children are throwing snowballs… instead of throwing heads! There’s frost in every window, and absolutely no one’s dead!” This song from The Nightmare Before Christmas has humor with a very classic feel.
Harry Connick, Jr.: Must Have Been Old Santa
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rb1_OeH07PQ
Too many artists simply mail in Christmas albums as a way to capitalize on their lack of ability to create hits; it’s a sad attempt to be relevant. But every time Harry Connick Jr. releases a Christmas album, I buy it; if the promise of God’s eternal salvation does not make you glad for the birth of Christ, maybe this album will tip the scales for you!
For almost every Mass on the first Sunday of December I can remember, a (visibly angry) priest would climb to the pulpit and offer a predictable lament. The lament was that “society” had, once again, started the celebration of Christmas four weeks too early; we as faithful Catholics were strongly encouraged not to take part in this abomination.
Of course, over half of the congregation had already accepted party invitations, had presents purchased during Black Friday stashed throughout the house, and had already set up a tree. No matter!!! The priest would challenge the community not to use the “C-word” (Christmas) until December 24. Because Advent is a SERIOUS time! A QUIET time! A time to PREPARE!
Of course when the priest said this I thought to myself, “Of course it’s a time to prepare; that’s what all of the sales are for!”
This attitude did not change much when I arrived at seminary. One December for a prayer service, I led a silent mediation with George Winston’s “December” album playing in the background, a somewhat obscure collection of piano tunes that have never been featured in any Rankin/Bass production. Yet after the service, one of the other students came up to me to let me know just how over-the-top inappropriate it was for me to play Christmas music during the season of Advent… in much the same tone as one might confront another on the inappropriateness of kicking small puppies.
My own opinion in years past has been that before Thanksgiving, I don’t want to see a thing; after the fat man crosses Herald Square in the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade, then everyone can go nuts. So when I would encounter these rather Puritan attitudes towards Advent in the middle of December, I would just roll my eyes and chalk it up to just another example of people in the church not understanding what the real world was like. That being said, I have to confess that this year I am finally starting to see the point of the foaming priest and the indignant student.
3:17 pm: After a long Metro Ride back (never ride the DC Metro with Joe Williams… bad luck always follows), Joe, Carolyn, and I talk about the place of religion in the public discourse in the hopes we can have a more open conversation as a whole, with people feeling free to both challenge and be challenged. We get back to St. Paul’s College and we drink beer. T’was a grand day!
2:35 pm: We decide to head out. We see someone holding a sign with a picture of Jesus that says something like, “That’s not what I said!” Had to get my picture taken with it.
2:02 pm: It’s funny, because there are so many people dressed up here today, not many people really notice me wearing a collar. BUT they do notice that I have a collar and a microphone. Most people are pretty cool, but a few have their suspicions when a guy wearing clerics want to ask them about religion. I wish I were also wearing a sign that said, “Not trying to sell you anything… just want to find out where you’re coming from!”
1:58 pm: I REALLY want a rally hat… but they are SO far away. So far all I have to show for this even in the way of paraphernalia is a sticker. Sigh.
1:45 pm: one thing that I am noticing from the interviews. I start off by asking about why fear is an aspect of religion and almost everybody has a list of (usually very valid) reasons. What’s been especially gratifying is that when I ask the next question, what is SANE about religion, those same people have another list of very valid reasons. What it’s made me realize is that people are usually asked one question or the other in order to support one’s particular point of view… I hope we can ask the follow up question …
but when I hit the “Send” button on my last paper of the semester this past Saturday, the holidays began for me!
