“Every dimension of the Church’s life and ministry, whether directly or indirectly, must have evangelization as its goal…Everything else is secondary. Unless our efforts – at every level, but especially that of the parish – are consciously aimed at conversion, both inward and outward, through the power of the message entrusted to us, we will only spin our wheels.” — Pope Paul VI, Evangelii Nuntiandi
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
David Bowie’s song “Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes” is an interesting take on life. The stuttering approach to the word changes gives a musical impression of how we avoid change. The word is almost forced out, because we don’t like change. “Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes” is a song that examines how we like to live in a comfort zone and how facing change can be profoundly disturbing and profoundly exhilarating. We are facing some changes in how we celebrate Mass and many people are profoundly disturbed, but it is also a chance to become revitalized.
Our comfort zone has lasted 40 years or so (most or all of lives). Prayers and responses we learned while going through our Catholic formation have become comfortable, easy, safe. “And also with you” has become a formula that is as automatic as saying “how are you?” when beginning a conversation. And now we are expected to jar loose that automatic response and replace it with “and with your spirit.”
Why? There are a couple of reasons. After Vatican II, American Catholics were pressed to translate the Mass into the vernacular. It happened in good will and it happened quickly. This translation served us for forty years. Generations of American Catholics have grown up with this translation, burned into our subconscious by 40 years of repetition. But it could have been done better. Now with scholarship and prayer, we have the new edition of the Roman Missal. It is a more exact translation of the words we use at prayer when we gather for the Mass. (Actually it is comprised of small changes, but sometimes the small changes can get under your skin more than even wholesale changes.)
Thus the change, and thus the challenge. When we face changes in our external lives – family, health, jobs, friendships and so forth – we either go with the flow or face breakdown or collapse. The comfort zone of our internal lives – our spiritual lives – is now under a seeming assault by the changes in how we celebrate Mass.
We need to rise to this challenge, this change. There is a Latin maxim that addresses the centrality of prayer in the life, identity and mission of the Catholic Church –”Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi.” The phrase in Latin literally means the law of prayer (“the way we worship”) is the law of belief (“what we believe”). It is sometimes expanded to “lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi” – how we worship reflects what we believe and determines how we will live.
How we pray is how we believe. How we celebrate Mass, our highest form of prayer, expresses how we believe. And how we pray is how we live. In the words we proclaim together, the music, the vestments, the environment, in participating in the Mass, we offer to God the best we can because He gives us His best. We have been given an opportunity to “shake up” our spiritual lives, an opportunity to invigorate our relationship to God and our lives.
It may seem a little awkward at first. But it won’t be long before these changes will be comfortable and familiar for everyone. But for now, facing the “ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes” can be rejected, or we can allow it to work its way in our lives.
(Note: In the following weeks I will outline some of the changes in how we pray at St. Anne’s, and I hope you take the opportunity to respond in questions and comments.)
Goodness in Mass Intentions by Margie Mandli
Recently, I learned that my former boss was placed in Hospice Care. As background, she was a corporate officer at a major health care company with more than 30 years of experience in sales and marketing – a manager of many, and mentor, to be sure. Many of us knew very little of her private life, except that she was happily married, and mother to a 15 year old son. She lit up talking about her son, Jake, and made sure to give him every opportunity in life, including an opportunity to be an exchange student in Mexico when he was about 12 (that’s a topic for a different day).
Sue had been battling a fight with breast cancer for about five years – a cross she carried ever so gracefully. In those years, she never complained about her lot in life. In fact, she wanted nobody to know about her cancer. Secretly, we all knew she was suffering. But I was always amazed at her poise, her beauty and grace during this time. She wore wigs. Beautiful wigs. Wigs that not only looked natural but accentuated her classic beauty. She smiled and laughed often. She enjoyed idle chit chat with employees in the hallway, as if all was good.
From my viewpoint, she could be best described as self-aware yet self-assured; humble yet strong; a peacemaker, to be sure…full of goodness. She never really wanted to fight the corporate battles that sometimes, unfortunately exist. She just wanted to do what was right for the company in the most collaborative and polite way. She never wanted to hurt anyone’s feelings – traits that often go unnoticed in Corporate America.
When I received the call that she was placed in Hospice, I was shocked. I really shouldn’t have been surprised, but given her history and the manner in which she carried herself, no one really thought about this time to come. But, the cancer hit fast and hard. Something came over me to have a Mass said for her. It was Wednesday. So, I called the Parish office to have Mass said for her on Thursday evening. But then, I thought, “Why do we do this as Catholics?” I knew intuitively having a Mass said for someone was a good thing, but I wasn’t sure why. So, as of late, anytime the word “why” enters my head, I Google it. I was exhilarated to find an article on the power of Mass intentions. Did you know for example, that some people have Masses said for their living family members…on their birthdays? Most often, we see Masses intentions for deceased.
Well sadly, Sue passed away on Thursday morning. God rest her soul. Truthfully, I had no idea what her relationship with our Lord was. That was between her and Him. But, now the Mass was going to be said for her deceased soul. The article was not only timely but full of beauty – it revealed the sheer gift we have as Catholics in the ability to have Masses said for others. I pondered, “Why don’t I do this more often?!” Here’s an excerpt of this article:
“One must never forget the infinite graces that flow from the Sacrifice of the Mass which benefit one’s soul. Pope Leo XIII in his encyclical “Mirae caritatis” (1902) beautifully elaborated this point and emphasized the connection between the communion of saints with the Mass: ‘The grace of mutual love among the living, strengthened and increased by the sacrament of the Eucharist, flows, especially by virtue of the Sacrifice [of the Mass], to all who belong to the communion of saints. For the communion of saints is simply … the mutual sharing of help, atonement, prayers and benefits among the faithful, those already in the heavenly fatherland, those consigned to the purifying fire, and those still making their pilgrim way here on earth. These all form one city, whose head is Christ, and whose vital principle is love. Faith teaches that although the august Sacrifice can be offered to God alone, it can nevertheless be celebrated in honor of the saints now reigning in Heaven with God, who has crowned them, to obtain their intercession for us, and also, according to apostolic tradition, to wash away the stains of those brethren who died in the Lord but without yet being wholly purified.’”
To paraphrase this excerpt, it’s as if millions of saints and angels descend upon the altar uniting heaven and earth, carrying up the individual for whom the Mass is being said to Christ himself – praying with the greatest of power to be merciful on her soul and to lift her up to heaven! Truthfully, the article gave me goose bumps as I read it, and once again I thanked the good Lord for this mystery and gift. (Here’s a link to the full article): http://www.catholiceducation.org/articles/religion/re0812.html)
That Thursday evening, the Mass was exceptionally powerful for me. I wept like a baby during the homily, the offertory, the consecration, and while receiving the Holy Eucharist. Yes, because I was thinking of Sue. But, I believe the Spirit was alive in me – making the connections, helping me understand just how powerful this Mass intention really was. It was an interior feeling…so difficult to put in words.
The morning Sue passed, I described to a friend that Sue was full of “goodness” – a word I’ve used only a few times in my life. During the homily later that day, Fr. Bob was referring to the Gospel and discussing how when people live on this earth they choose their destiny, i.e., heaven, by the “goodness” they show to others. In my mind, it was God affirming this Mass intention. An affirmation that will have a lasting effect. Do you need a Mass said for someone? I highly recommend it – there’s goodness in it. Call the Parish office for details.
Rare Beauty by Linda Bevec
Sage advice tells us “If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck.” This age old “duck test” is a humorous form of inductive reasoning… a kind of reasoning that allows for the possibility that the conclusion is false even when all of the premises are true. In the world of medicine, clinicians learn that common diseases are common. However, sometimes, the rare diagnosis can actually be the right one.
Our family recently took a trip to Washington DC. Not so much for vacation and sightseeing, but for participation in a clinical research study at the National Institutes of Health Rare Diseases Program. We’ve been in the study for 7 years to hopefully be of some value to a small dedicated group of doctors and researchers who are seeking to better understand the rare genetic kidney and liver disease our daughter was born with. Each year we spend 5 days in the clinic shuffling her up and down elevators and long hallways to complete a marathon of tests, blood draws, exams and procedures.
At the end of the week we sit in a cramped conference room with members of the research team to review all test results and begin an in-depth discussion of polycystic kidneys, enlarged spleens, fibrous livers, abnormal bile ducts, portal hypertension and their overall clinical findings on the progression of our daughter’s rare disease. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard “rare” in conversations over the years while talking to doctors or describing to family and friends the many clinical manifestations this awful disease can take and variety of eventual outcomes we have to look forward to. And in all of these situations “rare” is a word that has left me feeling somewhat unlucky; kind of like getting the short straw in a draw or being the last kid picked in the line-up for a game of kickball at recess. As if having any serious disease isn’t bad enough, but throw in the word “rare” and it sort of makes you feel like the one person out of a million to be struck by lightning each year.
But I’ve come to think of rare in slightly different ways. Like most words in the dictionary, rare has many definitions:
1. infrequently occurring; uncommon. Yes, our daughter’s disease is infrequent, occurring just 1:30,000 births per year. But I recently learned that rare diseases are actually quite common. There are 7,000 rare diseases that have been identified in the United States alone. We met a little girl at the research clinic years ago with a rare disease that affected her ability to grow and her bones were as brittle as chalk. She was confined to a wheel chair and often in great pain; but she had a smile that could light up the room. That is uncommon and rare.
2. Excellent, extraordinary; like a rare sense of humor. What child isn’t extraordinary? Each one is wonderfully formed by our Maker and unique like snowflakes. In our family alone we have green eyes, brown eyes, curly hair, straight hair, a lefty, and one with dimples. Heck, we even have one that likes brussel sprouts and we all know how rare that is!
3. Thin in density; rarefied; like rare air. If something is thin in density it is likely light and ethereal…perhaps even enlightening. Catching a glimpse of the silver lining in a newborn’s diagnosis of a rare and possibly deadly disease is perhaps enlightening. That one has taken me several years to get to, but the silver lining is most certainly there and I now see it every morning when she comes downstairs and greets me with her still, sleepy green eyes.
4. Cooked a short time to retain all the juice and redness. This is my husband’s favorite because he enjoys a good steak that is nearly burnt on the outside but bloody rare in the middle. And some would surely say it’s not the years in your life that count, but the life in your years. So whether it’s a steak quickly seared to perfection or an abundantly lived life tragically cut short perhaps there is a feeling of gratitude when you’ve been blessed with something truly rare. There are rare gemstones, rare coins, and rare birds.
I think a true friend is rare. And especially true love. I once saw a double rainbow on a roadside in rural Indiana and that was rare. So I asked my daughter today what she thinks of when she hears the word rare. “I think of wildflowers, bald eagles, seeing a grizzly bear and finding blue sea glass on the beach.” Maybe we don’t often find rare things because we’re just so accustomed to not really seeing them with our eyes. Maybe rare things are actually quite common after all and we need to see them more with our hearts. So next time you see something that looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, be sure to take another look and it just might be an American Coot which is not a duck at all. And quite rare at that.
January – March Weddings
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