A Mess of Pottage

Well, we finally made it to the end – disease number fifteen of the Pope’s examination of conscience to the Roman Curia. For those late to the party, I was bemused and rather dismayed by the social media reception of that speech he made just before Christmas, which consisted of much ill-natured finger pointing and judging of the Curia officials involved (most of whom those doing the judging would not be able to name or pick out from a police line up, and yet somehow felt capable of judging their souls).

No, the papal examen is for all of us, and so I’ve been going through the fifteen spiritual ailments and talking about how they apply to all of us, too, at least potentially. So here it is, at long last, number fifteen:

Lastly: the disease of worldly profit, of forms of self-exhibition. When an apostle turns his service into power, and his power into a commodity in order to gain worldly profit or even greater power. This is the disease of persons who insatiably try to accumulate power and to this end are ready to slander, defame and discredit others, even in newspapers and magazines. Naturally, so as to put themselves on display and to show that they are more capable than others.

This disease does great harm to the Body because it leads persons to justify the use of any means whatsoever to attain their goal, often in the name of justice and transparency! Here I remember a priest who used to call journalists to tell – and invent – private and confidential matters involving his confrères and parishioners. The only thing he was concerned about was being able to see himself on the front page, since this made him feel “powerful and glamorous”, while causing great harm to others and to the Church. Poor sad soul!

Now there is no doubt here that the Pope is referring to some very specific situations in the Vatican where power struggles have spilled over into precisely the use of the media that he describes here. There does seem to be a lot of gossip and whisper campaigns over there, and the Italian media seems quite happy to amplify those whispers in a way that is quite unedifying.

I doubt seriously if anyone in the Roman Curia reads my blog, but good fathers, if any of you are reading this, may I simply say that this kind of thing is deeply embarrassing to the Church at large, and a huge scandal to the cause of Christ in the world. And so, perhaps, you should cut it out? Do you have any idea how bad you look, and how bad you make the Church look with this puerile nonsense?

Of course that specific type of media power play is not something most of us are tempted to or indeed capable of. Nonetheless, underneath that specific thing which is only a temptation for people actually in positions of some power already, there is a terrible spiritual struggle that can afflict any of us at any time.

Namely, there is always a tendency in our lives to make it ‘all about me’. The Denis Lemieux Show, now in continuous airplay and available in HD and Blue Ray! The constant gravitational tug of the soul that wants to refer everything, everything, everything back to the self, the self, the self.

This is really what ‘pride’ is, and I don’t think anyone is entirely free of its influence, save some rare and precious saints among us. It is difficult for us to grasp just how utterly our lives are to be, not exactly other-directed, but Other-directed. How much our whole life is to be Christ-centred, Christ-oriented, Christ-guided, Christ-glorifying. That the ‘self’, the individual person, only enters into his or her full identity and weight, full purpose and meaning and wholeness and happiness, when he or she is utterly ordered towards the glory of God and the mission of Christ in the world to make that glory complete.

Pride—even for those who may have very little personal prestige or power—continually works to shift the spotlight, the focus back onto the individual. In ways subtle and blatant, we all have a tendency to make it ‘all about me’. And it is tragic, because what God offers us is so much more—a very entry into the life and communion of the Trinity, a sharing in God’s own being and love in an eternal outpouring of all God is to all we are.

How pathetic and paltry it is to trade all of that for some puny bit of worldly glory or attention or some passing gratification of the ego. Talk about trading our birthright for a mess of pottage! Pride: it is the disease of humanity, but fortunately we have a sure and certain remedy. Namely, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” and picking up our towel and water to go forth to serve our brothers and sisters as best we can, today.

The Real Meaning of 'Inclusive'

I’m late with the blogging today, as my brain had not quite woken up at the time that I usually write my blog post (6.30-7.00 a.m., if you’re keeping track of these things). On Wednesdays we’ve been reading through the Pope’s address to the Roman Curia from way back before Christmas. People took it at the time as a stern rebuke to those nasty so-and-sos in Rome; I am taking it on this blog as a darned good examination of conscience for all the nasty so-and-sos who read it (and the one who writes it).

We are getting close to the end of this exercise, with ‘disease number fourteen’, which is:

The disease of closed circles, where belonging to a clique becomes more powerful than belonging to the Body and, in some circumstances, to Christ himself. This disease too always begins with good intentions, but with the passing of time it enslaves its members and becomes a cancer which threatens the harmony of the Body and causes immense evil – scandals – especially to our weaker brothers and sisters. Self-destruction, “friendly fire” from our fellow soldiers, is the most insidious danger. It is the evil which strikes from within; and, as Christ says: “Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste” (Lk 11:17).

We always have to watch out, don’t we, for the tendency for the Church to become a club. For what is meant to be the sacrament of Christ’s presence in the world, his very Mystical Body operating in time and history, his voice in the voices of its members preaching the Gospel unceasingly, his hands and feet in the hands and feed of its members going out continually into the world to do good, his heart in the hearts of its members continually loving, continually striving to grow in love, to extend the boundaries of love to encompass the whole of the human race—for all of that to become a social circle, a guild, a nice little cozy enclave to feel safe in.

Even more so can this happen in groups within the Church, be it the parish choir, the altar guild, the Knights, or (ahem) Madonna House. Every single group in the Church is meant to be patterned on the whole of the Church, and so is called to that same expansiveness, that same open door, open heart, open welcome, open arms reaching out to gather in.

There is no room for cliques in the Church, but alas they do find their way in, don’t they? It is perhaps the single great failure of the Church as a body, as a group, that we fail to maintain that depth of openness and hospitality, inclusivity and welcome that we truly are called to be.

I realize that in using the ‘i’ word in the previous sentence, I need to clarify. I would prefer not to, but such is our confused times. Inclusivity does not mean that everyone gets to come into the Church and remain just as they are; it does not mean that the Church ceases to teach what is true and good, as has been revealed to it from all time by the Holy Spirit in Scripture and Tradition; it does not mean that we cease to call every man and woman, no matter what, to ongoing conversion and repentance and heroic virtue.

Inclusivity does mean, however, a deep compassion for every man and woman as they struggle with whatever their sins may be. Inclusivity does mean that we are very slow—very slow indeed, glacially slow in fact—to say to any person “Your sins are too much for our Church to handle.” Inclusivity does mean that we get over our squeamishness, our prudishness, our delicate sensibilities and be willing to get down in the mud where people actually are, not so as to abandon all notions of purity and get all muddy ourselves, but because that is where people need to be helped the most.

And inclusivity does mean a great patience, a great tolerance, a great willingness to suffer with and for and from the ‘other’, be it someone labouring with some terrible sexual sins or someone labouring with a bad temper, a miserly purse, or a rigid harsh judgmentalism.

All are welcome, indeed. All are part of the Church, indeed. And all are called to die in Christ so as to be born again in Him, all to be changed by the grace of God, all to turn away from sin (whatever it is) to be remade in the image of the Pure One of God, Love Incarnate.

Cliques, claques, and clubs put an end to all of that, no matter what form they may take. We are called to Christian maturity, Christian adult missionary and evangelical responsibility—all of us, lay people, clergy, everyone. And that call to maturity means embracing deeply and with totality the call to radical hospitality, outreach, warm personal love for every human being, and to give ourselves wholly to the mission of the Shepherd to gather all the sheep into the one sheepfold.

This is our call, and the way to that call is as near and obvious as the person in front of us right now who needs our attention and our love. So let’s do that, right now.

A Question of the Letter 'O'

We’re on the home stretch of going through Pope Francis’ pre-Christmas (!) address to the Roman Curia. For those arriving late to the party, I am doing this because I was rather horrified at the social media response to that address of ‘Yay, Pope Francis! Stick it to those jerks in the Vatican! Woohoo!’

Yeah, no. When a figure on the global scale of the Pope offers an examination of conscience like this, the right response to it is not, ‘Look at those guys squirm!’ but ‘Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me a sinner.’ And so I have been going through the Pope’s fifteen spiritual diseases one by one, and using them as a springboard for personal examination.

We are up to disease thirteen, which is the:

disease of hoarding. When an apostle tries to fill an existential void in his heart by accumulating material goods, not out of need but only in order to feel secure. The fact is that we are not able to bring material goods with us, since “the winding sheet does not have pockets”, and all our earthly treasures – even if they are gifts – will never be able to fill that void; instead, they will only make it deeper and more demanding.

To these persons the Lord repeats: “You say, I am rich, I have prospered and I need nothing; not knowing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind and naked. So be zealous and repent” (Rev 3:17, 19). Accumulating goods only burdens and inexorably slows down the journey! Here I think of an anecdote: the Spanish Jesuits used to describe the Society of Jesus as the “light brigade of the Church”. I remember when a young Jesuit was moving, and while he was loading a truck full of his many possessions, suitcases, books, objects and gifts, an old Jesuit standing by was heard to say with a smile: And this is “the light brigade of the Church”? Our moving can be a sign of this disease.

At first glance this disease seems to refer specifically to those in consecrated life, those with vows or promises of poverty (like me!). Indeed we who have freely chosen to take up that particular call of austerity and dispossession must constantly examine not only our consciences but our drawers and closets, our shelves and rooms, as material goods do seem to have a way of accumulating, even without our direct intention to have them do so.

It is a well known truism in my community of Madonna House that being transferred from one house to another is the great invitation to take stock and pare down one’s possessions. Those of us who find ourselves in long-term assignments have to be doubly vigilant, then.

So this disease of hoarding is one that I know religious and other types of consecrated have to be watchful of. What about the rest of you guys? Are the laity off the hook, and able then to acquire and hoard freely? Is that the general idea of Christian life—that the consecrated live austerely while the laity stack up possessions without any brake or qualms?

I don’t think so – do you? The sin of avarice (read all about it in my new book!) applies to all of us, don’t you think? The rich fool in Luke’s parable (Lk 12) is a lay man, after all. As is the rich man who denied Lazarus even a crust of bread (Lk 16). And that is the heart of the matter—the world’s goods are given to us for our use for our need; to store up and stock up beyond our reasonable need is to deprive and deny the poor, and if the Lord taught us one thing clearly in His life among us, it is that to deny the poor is to deny God.

It does bear witness, as the Pope says, to a spiritual emptiness, something amiss in our relationship with God, our trust in Him. So if we see ourselves constantly expanding our tents to make room for the next shipment of goods, it is a call on our part to prayer and fasting, interior examination and spiritual renewal. Material good is not our security; God is our security. In English, one little letter makes all the difference – but to remove that little ‘o’ can be quite a battle.

While the battle is fought on the front of how many clothes are in our closet or how many nice things are in our house, we have to be aware that the spiritual ramifications are immense and urgent—do I believe in God, or don’t I? Is He my all-in-all or not? Where is my security? And what about the poor? Big stuff, big questions, and eternal life hangs upon them.

So no, questions of poverty, avarice, hoarding, and generosity are not only for those with vows or promises. It is a basic Christian stance towards reality, which plays out in the concrete and very material choices we make each day, buying and selling, giving and taking, keeping and losing. Let us pray to choose wisely and well, mindful of Who we are really choosing or failing to choose in it all.

Putting An End to Nonsense.

After taking a break from it last week for Easter, I do want to get back to the Pope’s examination of conscience for the Roman Curia, even though it is starting to feel like a long time ago (years and years ago, in internet time). I am a stubborn contrarian, though, and have the weird idea that things don’t cease to be relevant because they were spoken or written sometime before last week. The speech continues to be a good examen for all of us for our lives.

We are up to disease number twelve out of fifteen. This is the “disease of a lugubrious face. Those glum and dour persons who think that to be serious we have to put on a face of melancholy and severity, and treat others – especially those we consider our inferiors – with rigour, brusqueness and arrogance.

“In fact, a show of severity and sterile pessimism are frequently symptoms of fear and insecurity. An apostle must make an effort to be courteous, serene, enthusiastic and joyful, a person who transmits joy everywhere he goes. A heart filled with God is a happy heart which radiates an infectious joy: it is immediately evident! So let us not lose that joyful, humorous and even self-deprecating spirit which makes people amiable even in difficult situations. How beneficial is a good dose of humour!”

Now, let’s be clear here. The Pope is not talking to people who are undergoing real trials and sorrows and grief, callously enjoining them to ‘cheer up’. He certainly is not referring to people suffering from clinical depression. Nor is he thinking of people who simply have somewhat grave personalities, who tend to be more often serious than not.

Pope Francis is not an idiot—obviously he knows that there is real suffering and affliction in the world that can weigh a person down severely. He also knows that it takes all kinds to make a world, and that those of a more melancholic temperament in fact make a great contribution to the human experience.

That being said, I think we all have experienced what he is really talking about here, which is less to do with real sufferings or inborn temperament and more to do with a choice to assume a grim and pessimistic attitude towards life, a glum and dampening attitude adopted out of some ridiculous idea that ‘this is what serious people are like.’

It is the element of artifice, of show, the kill joy spirit, the person who walks into a room where people are laughing and having a good time together and sees it as their principal job to put an end to that nonsense—this is what Pope Francis is talking about, I think. And the good Lord knows this can certainly be present in church circles, though not only there for sure.

But even for those who do have naturally melancholic temperaments, there is a need to choose joy—real joy is not after all a matter of personality and emotional bubbliness, but a matter of faith and hope. Is Christ risen from the dead? Are we redeemed by His love poured out as blood? Is the victory won? Is anything we say we believe actually, you know, true? Then perhaps we could crack a smile once in a while, eh?

It is a bit difficult for me to write about this, since I don’t actually suffer much from melancholy and I certainly have never experienced depression first hand. I do tend to have a natural ebullience of spirit, and (as those who live with me suffer from as much as enjoy) a lively sense of humour. It is difficult to write about struggles one does not personally have. Pope Francis himself, in an earlier period in his life, seems to have had this struggle himself, and had a reputation for being a dour, severe cleric (this is hard to believe given his present demeanour and mien, but I have heard this from multiple sources).

But whether this is something you or I have to grapple with or not, the bottom line is that truly Christ is risen, that the victory against sin and death and evil has been won (appearances to the contrary, I will acknowledge), and that those of us who count ourselves as Christians have a duty to reflect the joyful truth we believe in our words, our behaviour, our countenances. Not as a fake thing we have to pretend (Put on a happy face! Smile, though your heart is breaking!), but please God as something that comes out of our real conviction about the true nature of reality.

Such is the duty of a Christian who wants to preach the Gospel with his or her life, and so we have to be vigilant about this disease of glum severity and ‘sterile pessimism’. Let's put an end to that nonsense, and take on the serious business of joyful Christian witness in the world.