Truer Words Have Never Been Spoken

This morning I came across a piece by Father George Rutler in this month's Magnificat about the much anticipated new translation of the Roman Missal.

In the course of discussing the extreme difficulty of providing an accurate translation of the Bible (or anything, really), he notes:

Times also change meanings: as architect of Saint Paul's Cathedral, Sir Christopher Wren was honored when Queen Anne said the finished building was awful and terrible; today she would have said awesome and overwhelming. And attempts to make words "culturally relevant" can be fraught with problems: I grew up with the King James Bible, one of the greatest works of art accomplished by a committee, but even my young ears thought it strange to hear that Pharaoh had a butler.

His "one of the greatest works of art accomplished by a committee" line prompted me to recall this plaque that hangs in my boss's office:

Surrexit Dominus Vere, Alleluia!

I think it's interesting that at Mass on Easter Sunday, in lieu of professing the Nicene Creed, each of us is cross-examined (pardon the pun) about its contents, and asked to affirm whether we believe what the Church believes.

We might ask ourselves, when we say the Creed on any other given Sunday, how much thought do we give it when we say, "On the third day He rose again in fulfillment of the Scriptures?"

Do we really believe this? Do our thoughts, words, and actions convey that we really believe this?

The Resurrection of Jesus is the central belief of our faith. It isn't just a nice story that only credulous bumpkins believe in. It is a story, yes, but it also happens to be a true story.

Because, you know, it really happened.

I had thought about writing today about how hopelessly and laughably implausible all of the alternative explanations to The Empty Tomb are, but I don't have time. That, and there are already many wiser than I who have written articles debunking the would-be debunkers, so I'll just link to one of those instead.

And I'll say this:

Christ is risen! Indeed He is Risen!

And yea, our faith is true:

If there is no resurrection of the dead, then neither has Christ been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then empty (too) is our preaching; empty, too, your faith. Then we are also false witnesses to God, because we testified against God that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise if in fact the dead are not raised.

For if the dead are not raised, neither has Christ been raised, and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is vain; you are still in your sins.

Then those who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are the most pitiable people of all. But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. (1 Cor. 15: 13-20)

I Thought This Would Be Worth Posting

...in light of yesterday's Gospel reading:

Gratitude

What with tomorrow being Thanksgiving, I decided last week on a rather unoriginal idea: to write a list of things I'm thankful for.

That said, I am thankful for:

1. Teresa, our almost 8-year old daughter, who told me a couple weeks ago, “Daddy, today I learned the difference between perfect and imperfect contrition” – and then proceeded to explain said difference in a way that would surely have satisfied even St. Thomas Aquinas.

2. Cecilia, our 6-year old daughter, who already has way, way more artistic talent than I have, allowing her to create neat pictures like this:



3. Lucy, our 5-year old daughter, who loves to sing along as loudly as she possibly can to the soundtrack of Annie.

4. Joe, our 3-year old son, who always seems happy and who seems to make everybody else he sees happy too.

5. Anthony/A.J., our 19-month old son, whose willingness to climb most anything causes me to think he’s destined for many fearless pursuits throughout life.

6. That all of our children’s godparents are exemplary role models who pray for them every day.

7. Our new baby, due in April.

8. That all of us are in relatively good health.

9. Jocelyn, who is, well, just an awesome wife.

10. Jocelyn, who is, well, just an awesome mom.

11. A job I absolutely love.

12. A modest home in a decent neighborhood.

13. Two motorcars that are paid for, one of which, given to us by one of my brothers 10 years ago, still runs just fine.

14. The speech therapists I met with (after being picked up by the short bus) a few times a week from kindergarten through second grade who helped me overcome a significant stuttering habit.

15. The many great teachers I’ve had throughout my life.

16. The time I spent teaching from 2000-2004.

17. A family and extended family (on both my side and Jocelyn’s) in which – more or less – everybody gets along.

18. Chicago-style pizza.

19. The writings of G.K. Chesterton.

20. Countless good friends.

21. Loving and supportive parents.

22. Having had the chance to study in Rome for four months in 1997.

23. Having grown up in a home in which neither money nor food was wasted, which very much helped me to learn the proverbial “value of a dollar.”

24. Having grown up in Minnesota, as a result of which I know that the proper way to play the game is “Duck, Duck, Gray Duck” – not the silly, ridiculous apology known as “Duck, Duck, Goose”.

25. Our local parish – St. Odilo – a mere four blocks from our house, where the Tridentine Mass is offered every Sunday.

26. St. John Cantius, our “other” parish – where, on any given Sunday, three or four priests hear confessions before (and during) Mass, so that wretched, habitual sinners like me are able, as often as we need, to bare our souls to someone who really and truly does have the power to forgive them.

27. Far more than I could possibly hope to include in a list like this.

The Only True Revolution

On this day, when Jesus first changed bread and wine into his very Body and Blood and ordained the first priests and gave them the ability to do the same, First Things has a brilliant reflection by Fr. Leonard Klein titled "Axis Mundi":

I recently read an article in which a Methodist minister referred to the Eucharist as “revolutionary.” It would be easy to dismiss her use of a term used to advertise a new shampoo or safety razor. But the claim that the Eucharist is revolutionary is a reminder we very much need to hear, for it is very much true. We can too easily get accustomed to what we do at the Eucharist and forget its meaning for us and for the world. We lose much, perhaps everything, if we forget it.

In the Eucharist we are joined to the sacrifice of Christ—offered and received—and the sacrifice of Christ is the only true revolution. All the other revolutions have turned out to be merely adjustments in the way things are done, for better and far too often for the worse.

The American Revolution was an event of great world historical significance, yet in many ways it was just an adjustment in well-established English ways of living and thinking. The French Revolution replaced the absolute monarchy of France with a government just as absolutist and more bloody, which became the ancestor of all the bloody tyrannies of our era.

Then there is the Scientific Revolution. It has brought much good, but it has also given us greater abilities than human moral capacity can easily manage. It has brought healing, conveniences, communications, and knowledge unimaginable in earlier times, but on the other hand it has brought advanced killing technology, pollution, and embryonic stem cell research. It has provided a convenient excuse for childish atheism and shattered many aspects of human community and family life.

Human revolutions are merely adjustments in human life, not human nature. They leave us unchanged and the real human problem of sin, death, and the devil unaddressed.

The Eucharist—celebrated constantly throughout the world and this night with a particular intensity—turns our world upside down. It announces that at the center of the universe is the crucified Jew, Jesus.

When he was crucified, everybody thought the real action and the real power and glory were in Rome. Jesus was just another small-time, backwoods nuisance to the emperor, easily disposed of.

But in the frail flesh of Jesus, in his death, God changed everything. This is in human terms a most unlikely form of revolution. More radically—if that is imaginable—God continues that work under the forms of bread and wine.

Read the whole thing.

You Learn Something New Every Day

At least I do.

A priest friend of mine, Fr. Robert Zwilling of the Diocese of Belleville, sends out a weekly e-mail that explains a little bit about this or that theological topic, liturgical season, etc.

This week's message explained why there are traditionally three Masses (with three different sets of readings) celebrated at Christmas.

Father Robert, with some help from the Angelic Doctor, explained:

There are actually three Masses: at midnight, dawn, and during the day. They were mystically connected with aboriginal, Judaic, and Christian dispensations, or to the triple "birth" of Christ: in Eternity, in Time, and in the Soul. St. Thomas Aquinas goes into more details:

“On Christmas Day, however, several masses are said on account of Christ's threefold nativity. Of these the first is His eternal birth, which is hidden in our regard. and therefore one mass is sung in the night, in the "Introit" of which we say: "The Lord said unto Me: Thou art My Son, this day have I begotten Thee." The second is His nativity in time, and the spiritual birth, whereby Christ rises "as the day-star in our [Vulg.: 'your'] hearts" (2 Peter 1:19), and on this account the mass is sung at dawn, and in the "Introit" we say: "The light will shine on us today." The third is Christ's temporal and bodily birth, according as He went forth from the virginal womb, becoming visible to us through being clothed with flesh: and on that account the third mass is sung in broad daylight, in the "Introit" of which we say: "A child is born to us." Nevertheless, on the other hand, it can be said that His eternal generation, of itself, is in the full light, and on this account in the gospel of the third mass mention is made of His eternal birth. But regarding His birth in the body, He was literally born during the night, as a sign that He came to the darknesses of our infirmity; hence also in the midnight mass we say the gospel of Christ's nativity in the flesh.”  -Summa Theologica III:83:2

Now I know. And so do you.

Novena to the Immaculate Conception

For the past several years, St. Mary of the Angels Parish in Chicago has hosted a Novena to the Immaculate Conception.

The Novena consists of a nightly Rosary and a Mass in which the homily focuses on a particular aspect of Our Lady—Cause of Our Joy, Health of the Sick, Mother of Fairest Love, etc. And, as is the custom at SMA, other priests hear confessions before (and, as it inevitably happens, during) Mass.

This Advent custom is something we always look forward to, as Jocelyn and I attended most nights of the Novena—shortly before we started dating—during our senior year of college ten years ago, when it wasn't nearly as well attended as it has been in recent years. (St. Mary of the Angels is also the church where we were married.)

This year's celebrants include Cardinal George, Bishop Joseph Perry, Bishop Francis Kane, Fr. Frank ("Rocky") Hoffman, and the one and only Fr. Richard Simon.

With our increasingly large family, it's harder for us to go as often as we'd like, but we're always able to make it at least one of the nights. If you're in the area, I'd encourage you to do the same—or, better yet, to go more often.

The Novena starts today, November 30, the feast of the holy, glorious and all-laudable Apostle Andrew the First-Called.

The full schedule is here.

Marriage and the Eucharist

Yesterday the pamilya and I attended the wedding of some friends of ours. Not only for our kids but also for Jocelyn and me, this was our first time attending a Syro-Malabar wedding, which was celebrated at the Cathedral Church of St. Thomas in Bellwood, IL.

I might have guessed that the wedding would be celebrated within the context of a Mass (especially considering it was on a Sunday afternoon), but since I was not entirely familiar with the Syro-Malabar tradition, I figured we'd better go to Mass Sunday morning, lest we be lax in our observance of the Third Commandment.

Lo and behold, not only was the wedding — which was in all respects a most beautiful and joyous occasion &mdash celerated within the context of a Mass, but the priest's homily focused on precisely why it's entirely fitting for the Sacrament of Matrimony to be celebrated in the context of the celebration of the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist.

The main lesson I took away from it is one I'd not considered before. In the same way, the priest noted, that at the words of consecration, even though the appearance, shape, texture, etc. of the bread and wine remain, they are no longer bread and wine — rather, they are the Body and Blood of Christ; so too when a man and woman are joined in the Sacrament of Matrimony, although they still appear to be two distinct individuals, they no longer are — rather, they have become one.

I'd have to say it was one of the better homilies I've heard in some time.

25 Things Pertaining to, about, Or Otherwise Concerning Me

Well, because of the ironclad Someone On Facebook Tagged Me rule, I'm now obliged to list 25 things about myself.

That said:

1. When I was a kid, I had a terrible stuttering problem, such that I had to ride the short bus twice a week from the Catholic school I attended to a nearby public school, where I took speech therapy.

2. My wife, Jocelyn -- who is the most beautiful woman in the world -- and I have four kids, and we're expecting our fifth in April. When people ask us how many children we want, we honestly tell them we don't know, but that we have no plans to stop any time soon.

3. It greatly bothers me when people throw things away that could be recycled.

4. I rarely go out to eat, but when I do, I believe it's critically important to tip at least 20%.

5. I think it's terribly rude to not say, "Thank you" to a server when he brings you your food at a restaurant.

6. I enjoy long, impassioned discussions about things that many other people would consider not worth arguing about.

7. I am probably the only person I know who is a fan of the Tridentine Mass (the "old" Latin Mass), and who doesn't mind a polka Mass. (Truth be told, I've only been to a polka Mass once in my life, but I rather liked it.)

8. I'm of the opinion that cluttering up people's inboxes with forwarded e-mails is one of the most annoying things a person can do.

9. I took a sick day from work on December 2, 2003, and before that, the last time I missed a day of school or work due to sickness prior to that was when I was in sixth grade (1989-1990). Since 12/2/03, I have taken only one sick day for myself, on October 17, 2008, when I had pink eye, although I would contend that that day would require a Roger Maris-like asterisk placed next to it, as Jocelyn was on her fifth straight day of being sick with a bad case of pneumonia, so I probably would have stayed home that day anyway to take care for her and watch our kids.

10. Although I've never lived in New York City myself, I've been there three times, and find the city utterly fascinating.

11. For many of the past eight winters, I've grown a beard, mostly because I like not having to worry about taking the time to shave in the morning.

12. I once ate a Pop Tart whose outside wrapper had been opened for at least a month. Before eating it, I said, a la Homer Simpson, "Mmmmmm.....month-old Pop Tart...aaaaaagggggghhhhhhh." Believe it or not, it tasted no different than a Pop Tart that had just been opened a few seconds earlier. Can you imagine how many preservatives must be in one of those things? (It might also be worth noting that I've not eaten a Pop Tart since.)

13. I'm a big fan of musicals. Among my favorites are "The Music Man", "Guys & Dolls", "Anything Goes", and "Fiddler on the Roof" (the last three of which I've had parts in productions thereof).

14. I think putting cry rooms in churches is an extraordinarily stupid idea.

15. I started drinking coffee when I started student-teaching, during my senior year of college. Every teacher I had in grade school and high school, as far as I can remember, drank coffee, so I figured all teachers probably did. In turn, I figured I'd better start. I hated it at first -- probably because I started on instant -- but I soon grew to like it. Now I love coffee, and drink 3-4 cups a day.

16. Most of the clothes I wear I've either received as gifts, or else I've bought at thrift stores. Some of my clothes I've had since high school, and at least one shirt I still wear I've had since 8th grade.

17. I have strongly held opinions on parenting, but when I talk to new or prospective parents, I always try to avoid giving parenting advice, preferring instead to tell them that if they'd like our advice, we'd be happy to give it if they'd like it. (This is largely because when Jocelyn and I were expecting Teresa, our first child, not a few people gave us entirely unsolicited advice -- most of which we didn't agree with. This, I thought, was terribly intrusive.)

18. I try to use archaic words whenever possible (e.g., "motorcar" instead of "car"; "aeroplane" instead of "airplane"; "constable" instead of "policeman" -- well, you get the idea).

19. I tend to admire people who are cynical toward most of the other members of their professions. This is most evident, I think, in my attitude toward doctors. If I (or more likely, somebody else in our family, per #9) get sick, I don't want to go to some AMA lackey who managed to not fail out of medical school; I want to go to someone who realizes that medicine is about treating not just the body, but the whole human person.

20. I have a shrew-like metabolism, and I like to eat (or at least don't mind eating) just about anything -- with one of few exceptions being eggplant.

21. I once came up with a theory that if a white guy was born in the 1970s, and if he was a geek during high school, then during those same high school years, it's a near certainty that he also had a fanatical devotion to one of three bands: Rush, Yes, or Jethro Tull. (I later added Pink Floyd as a fourth possibility, per the suggestion of my co-worker Matt Yonke.)

My fanatical devotion during high school was to Rush.

22. When I ride my bike to work -- which I frequently like to do during the spring, summer, and fall months -- the 12-mile commute often takes less time than it does on days when I drive.

23. My favorite writer is G.K. Chesterton.

24. At one time in my life, shortly after I started college, I believed that "overpopulation" posed a serious problem for the world, and had doubts about the Catholic Church's teaching against contraception. When I discovered that overpopulation, um, wasn't a problem, that prompted me to learn more about the Church's teachings on sexuality.

The wisdom in the Church's teachings blew me away. Not long thereafter, I began taking my faith more seriously, and for the first time in my life, I started going to confession regularly. I shudder to think at what my life would be like now, had I not come to that turning point.

25. For the past (almost) nine years since graduating from college, I've worked with teenagers -- for four years as a high school teacher, and for the past four+ as the co-director of a pro-life youth outreach. I love working with teenagers, and I hope I can continue doing so for a long time.

New and Improved!

Found this today on Facebook:



[HT: ?]

The Maronite Church

Via Mark Shea, here's a beautiful video giving the history of the Maronite Church in under two minutes:



I've attended the Maronite Divine Liturgy twice in my life, and I can't think of a good reason why it's only twice.

Absolutely, sublime, it is—in no small part because much of it (including the words of consecration) is in Aramaic, the language spoken by Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Utter Stupidity

Those who favor banning books like Huck Finn must be gleeful at this news:

Some bureaucrats at the Wilmette Park District are so aghast at the language in a planned production of the musical Ragtime that they've cancelled the show.

I'm not sure what upsets me more: that, or the fact that the ninnies actually tried to get permission to change the script.

Now, the only experience I have as an actor was in high school and community theater productions, but even a one-time amateur like me knows you simply Can't. Do. That.

(Interestingly enough, the same is true of the liturgical rubrics. Just as a priest has no right to change the prayers at Mass, so too an actor or director has no right to change the words of a play.)

I wonder how often the company that owns Ragtime's rights receives such transparently stupid requests.

Sublime

I served the Tridentine Mass for the first time on Monday, and I found the experience to be singularly sublime.

I've mentioned in previous posts that I like the Tridentine Mass, and I now know that I really, really like serving it. I hope and pray I will have other opportunities to do so in the future.

Brush Up Your Latin

I will have the great fortune to serve the Tridentine Mass for the first time this Monday, as a newly ordained priest from the Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter will be coming to our office to offer Mass in our St. Joseph Chapel:



In the meantime, I'm finding this Tutorial for Altar Servers—which, incidentally, is a project of our parish—to be extraordinarily helpful.