On Not Being Ashamed of the Flesh

We speak of parrhesia, of apostolic courage, and we think of pastoral plans, this is good, but the same parrhesia is also needed in prayer. Do you struggle with the Lord? Do you argue with the Lord as Moses did? When the Lord was annoyed, tired of his people, he said to him: “Don’t worry.... I will destroy everything, and I will make you the head of another people”. “No. No. If you destroy the people, destroy me too”. But, these were real men! Do we have enough guts to struggle with God for our people?..

Do not be ashamed of the flesh of your brother. In the end, we will be judged on our ability to draw close to “all flesh” — this is Isaiah. Do not be ashamed of the flesh of your brother. “Making ourselves close”: closeness, nearness, being close to the flesh of one’s brother. The priest and the Levite who had passed by before the Good Samaritan did not know how to draw close to the person who had been beaten by bandits.

Their hearts were closed. Perhaps the priest had looked at his watch and said: “I have to go to Mass, I cannot be late for Mass”, and he left. Excuses! How often we justify ourselves, to get around the problem, the person. The other, the Levite, or the doctor of the law, the lawyer, said: “No, I cannot because if I do this tomorrow I will have to go and testify, I will lose time...” Excuses! Their hearts were closed. But a closed heart always justifies itself for what it has not done. Instead, the Samaritan opens his heart, he allows his heart to be moved, and this interior movement translates into practical action, in a concrete and effective intervention to help the person.

At the end of time, only those who have not been ashamed of the flesh of their brother who is injured and excluded will be permitted to contemplate the glorified flesh of Christ.

Pope Francis, Address to the priests of the Diocese of Rome, March 6, 2014

Reflection – Well, it is Palm Sunday, Passion Sunday, and this little bit of the pope’s address lines up quite nicely with the liturgical place we are in right now. ‘Do not be ashamed of the flesh of your brother.’ This is what we see in Jesus today. He was not afraid or repulsed or ashamed to draw very close indeed to the flesh of humanity, to the wounds and stench, the blood and gore, the broken bodies and more broken souls of his brothers and sisters.

In fact, He could do what we cannot. We can be present in mercy and love, give practical help and a compassionate listening heart to another person; Jesus could do all that, and more. He could enter in and take on the flesh of the world, the vulnerable heart of the human world, the very reality of sin and death and the burden every human being carries. He could, and did, actually embrace all of that in the events we hear about today at Mass and carry through this Holy Week.

Jesus is the savior of the world, not us. But we can be merciful. We can be kind to one another and simply do what is in our power to help one another. All caught up in and made one with and mystically bound to the action of Christ, the love of God.

This is our faith. This is the entry into glory, into heaven—to practice mercy in this life and in that to open ourselves up to the transforming mercy of God. We do not ‘earn’ God’s mercy by being nice to one another—that would be Pelagianism—but rather our choice, our frail efforts to be loving and good to our neighbor allow God’s gratuitous gift in Jesus Christ to penetrate our stubborn, stony hearts.

So, simply my brothers and sisters, let us be done with the justifications of the ‘priest and the Levite’ and simply apply ourselves to the task of love, in whatever form that task presents itself in our immediate circumstances. But in this, we are drawn most deeply into the contemplation of Christ, into the heart of reality, which is the crucified flesh of Jesus become the risen and glorious flesh of Jesus, become the life of the world and the glory of God, the deepest and most perfect manifestation of the heart of the Trinity until we see Him face to face. Happy Holy Week to you all, and may love conquer all, in and for all of us.

Striking the Rock, That Water May Gush Forth

Let us return to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. It often happens that we priests hear our faithful telling us they have encountered a very “strict” priest in the confessional, or very “generous”, i.e., a rigorist or a laxist. And this is not good. It is normal that there be differences in the style of confessors, but these differences cannot regard the essential, that is, sound moral doctrine and mercy.

Neither the laxist nor the rigorist bears witness to Jesus Christ, for neither the one nor the other takes care of the person he encounters. The rigorist washes his hands of them: in fact, he nails the person to the law, understood in a cold and rigid way; and the laxist also washes his hands of them: he is only apparently merciful, but in reality he does not take seriously the problems of that conscience, by minimizing the sin.

True mercy takes the person into one’s care, listens to him attentively, approaches the situation with respect and truth, and accompanies him on the journey of reconciliation. And this is demanding, yes, certainly. The truly merciful priest behaves like the Good Samaritan... but why does he do it? Because his heart is capable of having compassion, it is the heart of Christ!

We are well aware that neither laxity nor rigorism foster holiness… Neither laxity nor rigorism sanctify the priest, and they do not sanctify the faithful! However, mercy accompanies the journey of holiness, it accompanies it and makes it grow.... Too much work for a parish priest? It is true, too much work!

And how do we accompany and foster the journey of holiness? Through pastoral suffering, which is a form of mercy. What does pastoral suffering mean? It means suffering for and with the person. And this is not easy! To suffer like a father and mother suffer for their children; I venture to say, also with anxious concern....

Tell me: Do you weep? Or have we lost our tears? I remember that in the old Missals, those of another age, there is a most beautiful prayer to ask the gift of tears. The prayer began like this: “Lord, who commanded Moses to strike the rock so that water might gush forth, strike the stone of my heart so that tears…”: the prayer went more or less like this. It was very beautiful. 

But, how many of us weep before the suffering of a child, before the breakup of a family, before so many people who do not find the path?... The weeping of a priest.... Do you weep? Or in this presbyterate have we lost all tears?

Pope Francis, Address to the priests of the Diocese of Rome, March 6, 2014

Reflection – Well, I don’t know if this address by Pope Francis is helpful to anyone else, but it sure is helping me, so I’m going to keep blogging about it for a couple more days yet. Thank you for your patience.

The laxist/rigorist dichotomy is one we are all familiar with. As I said a couple days ago, I honestly have had very few if any rigorist priests hear my confession over my 40 years as a Catholic sinner (and I haven’t just done confession in Madonna House – I’ve been all over! But laxism… yes, strictly from my first-hand experience this is the more common fault of priests in North America in our day. And Pope Francis expertly and succinctly shows what is wrong with both of these approaches—neither is really merciful, neither really cares for the person. The rigorist crushes the person under the yoke of the Law; the laxist, under a pretence of being ‘kind’, fails utterly to engage the real spiritual illness of the person, their true need for healing.

At any rate, the Pope is calling us priests here to a very high and challenging level of mercy and generosity. I don’t know if I can say much about this—his call to priests to weep for and with their people. After all, to put it delicately, a good number of ‘my people’ read this blog – I will simply say that it is my heart’s desire to be precisely the kind of priest the pope is describing, and that this reality of ‘pastoral suffering’ as a means of growth in holiness is very real indeed, at the very least a path that is open to any priest who is willing to enter it.

Meanwhile, we all know that priests on the whole are a pretty human bunch of guys—neither the monstrous vampires of anti-Catholic bigotry nor the paragons of virtue and holiness that a naïve faith would imagine them to be. We’re just people, endowed in ourselves with the strengths and weaknesses, folly and smarts that characterize humanity as a whole. Of ourselves, nothing too special, yet for reasons of His own, endowed by Christ with this sacred task and the sacred powers that go with it.

So, pray for your priests, eh? We’re on the cusp of Holy Week here, and parishes the world over are stepping into high gear. I just came back from a parish mission, and am very aware of just how busy and hard-working my parochial confreres are. Pray for them and, if you can, offer an encouraging word to them once in a while. Pray especially that true mercy and compassion can reign in the hearts of all priests, and that the whole Church can become the community of mercy and compassion it is meant to be.

God Gives Us the Bad Example

A great priest from Buenos Aires comes to mind, he is younger than I, he is around the age of 72.... Once he came to see me. He is a great confessor: there are always people waiting in line for him there. The majority of priests confess to him... He is a great confessor.

And once he came to see me: “But Father....”; “Tell me”; “I have a small scruple, because I know that I forgive too much!”… And we spoke about mercy. At a certain point he said to me: “You know, when I feel this scruple keenly, I go to the chapel, before the Tabernacle, and I say to Him: Excuse me, but it’s Your fault, because it is you who has given me the bad example! And I go away at peace....”. It is a beautiful prayer of mercy! If one experiences this in his own regard in Confession, in his own heart, he is able to give it to others.

The priest is called to learn this, to have a heart that is moved. Priests who are — allow me to say the word — “aseptic”, those “from the laboratory”, all clean and tidy, do not help the Church.

Today we can think of the Church as a “field hospital”. Excuse me but I repeat it, because this is how I see it, how I feel it is: a “field hospital”. Wounds need to be treated, so many wounds! So many wounds! There are so many people who are wounded by material problems, by scandals, also in the Church.... People wounded by the world’s illusions.... We priests must be there, close to these people. Mercy first means treating the wounds. 

When someone is wounded, he needs this immediately, not tests such as the level of cholesterol and one’s glycemic index.... But there’s a wound, treat the wound, and then we can look at the results of the tests. Then specialized treatments can be done, but first we need to treat the open wounds. I think this is what is most important at this time. And there are also hidden wounds, because there are people who distance themselves in order to avoid showing their wounds closer....

The custom comes to mind, in the Mosaic Law, of the lepers in Jesus’ time, who were always kept at a distance in order not to to spread the contagion.... There are people who distance themselves through shame, through shame, so as not to let their wounds be seen.... And perhaps they distance themselves with some bitterness against the Church, but deep down inside there is a wound.... They want a caress! And you, dear brothers — I ask you — do you know the wounds of your parishioners? Do you perceive them? Are you close to them? It’s the only question....

Pope Francis, Address to the priests of the Diocese of Rome, March 6, 2014

Reflection – Well this part of his address is so beautiful that a) I couldn’t bear to cut any of it out and b) I really don’t know what I have to add to it! Except that I believe Pope Francis is really revealing his own heart here, the real core of his faith, his fundamental orientation in life.

Everything else—economic policy and liturgical style, curial reform and magisterial focus—all of this is not nothing, not utterly unimportant, but very much secondary to this profound sense of the wounds of humanity and the need for a merciful Church, a field hospital Church, a Church that is first concerned to stanch the bleeding and assuage the pain of people.

It is not—it never is and it never can be—a question of abandoning this teaching or changing that doctrine. It is a matter of deeply discerning the need of the person in front of you and what they can or cannot hear at this precise point. Truth is truth and truth must be taught, but always with love, always with a profound sensitivity to the level of pain and brokenness of the person.

In other words, the person and his or her immediate need comes first, always. This is how it is with God, and this is how it must be with us, priests for sure, but not just priests, eh? Mercy – the heart of the matter always, but never more than in our poor broken-down world today.

Lazarus, Come Out!

Today we forget everything far too quickly, even the Magisterium of the Church! Part of this is unavoidable, but we cannot forget the great content, the great intuitions and gifts that have been left to the People of God. And Divine Mercy is one of these. It is a gift which he gave to us, but which comes from above. It is up to us, as ministers of the Church, to keep this message alive, above all through preaching and in our actions, in signs and in pastoral choices, such as the decision to restore priority to the Sacrament of Reconciliation and to the works of mercy. Reconciliation, making peace through the Sacrament, also with words, and with works of mercy…

Let us ask ourselves what mercy means for a priest, allow me to say for us priests. For us, for all of us! Priests are moved to compassion before the sheep, like Jesus, when he saw the people harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Jesus has the “bowels” of God, Isaiah speaks about it very much: he is full of tenderness for the people, especially for those who are excluded, that is, for sinners, for the sick who no one takes care of.... Thus, in the image of the Good Shepherd, the priest is a man of mercy and compassion, close to his people and a servant to all.

This is a pastoral criterion I would like to emphasize strongly: closeness. Closeness and service, but closeness, nearness!... Whoever is wounded in life, in whatever way, can find in him attention and a sympathetic ear.... The priest reveals a heart especially in administering the Sacrament of Reconciliation; he reveals it by his whole attitude, by the manner in which he welcomes, listens, counsels and absolves.... 

But this comes from how he experiences the Sacrament firsthand, from how he allows himself to be embraced by God the Father in Confession and remains in this embrace.... If one experiences this in one’s own regard, in his own heart, he can also give it to others in his ministry. And I leave you with the question: How do I confess? Do I allow myself to be embraced?

Pope Francis, Address to the priests of the Diocese of Rome, March 6, 2014

Reflection – As I have mentioned, I’m in Orangeville Ontario this week giving a parish mission (thank you, all who are praying for it – it’s going well). My presence here happens to coincide with the archdiocese of Toronto’s ’24 Hours of Reconciliation’ – the day when every parish will be open all day with priests available to hear confessions. So I will actually be spending about four hours today hearing confessions in the church here, along with the parish penance service tomorrow night to close off the mission.

None of which I had in mind when I picked out this talk from Pope Francis for today’s blogging, but all of which goes nicely together. The sacrament of confession is such a beautiful thing, really. People have such odd ideas about it sometimes—I'm thinking not of the truly weird and wacky ideas of anti-Catholic bigots so much, but the normal perceptions of non-Catholics or lapsed Catholics.

I suppose in the latter case people have had bad experiences and this colors their perception. I must say that I’ve been going to confession regularly for 40 years of my life with no lapses, and I have never once been yelled at, sneered at, bullied, shamed, hectored, humiliated—not even remotely. In fact, the only criticism I would make of some of the priests who have heard my confession over the years is that they have been if anything a bit laxist (the pope will explain this shortly).

But for the most part, the priests I have encountered in the confessional have been kind men simply offering me the tangible experience of God’s mercy in this unique sacramental setting. Sometimes they have had a word of wise counsel, more often they have simply given me the sacrament (which is the point of the exercise, after all).

It’s such a beautiful thing. You walk in, kneel down or sit, speak in simple unadorned language the moral failures, the sins, of the past week or month, express contrition, receive some mild penance or other, and then…

And then Jesus, not the man, not the priest, washes you clean. Not because you deserve it, not because you earned it, not because of anything… he just does it. It is a miracle on a par with the raising of Lazarus from the dead. You walk into the confessional burdened in conscience to some greater or lesser degree. You walk out (Lazarus - come out!) as innocent as a newly baptized baby, unbound, alive.

What a gift this is from God in the life of the Church, what a treasure! How is it possible that Catholics have turned away from it, make silly jokes about it, or get angry about it as if it’s some horrible imposition? God, in Jesus, in the life of the Church, in the person of the ordained minister, works here the greatest miracle, the greatest work of power next to his creation of the universe and his raising of Jesus from the dead – he restores life, health, and the grace of divine communion to a human soul who has refused these goods. How on earth can anyone have a problem with this?

So… when’s the last time you went to confession? Uhhh... isn’t it time you went again?