Ubi Petrus

This past week was a whirlwind of milestones for my son. On Monday he tested in his Kenpo Karate class, earning his blue belt and therein also a promotion to the next class. This will be the last class before he has to decide whether to pursue his black belt – it seems entirely too soon for that but at the same time I see the progress he’s made and can see how it could happen that soon. On Wednesday we were back at the Karate studio for their promotion night where he for the first time worked out in front of the studio’s founder and was presented his belt. Makes one feel downright old, it does.

The biggest day, however, was still to come. Just yesterday along with about thirty of his classmates he received the Body and Blood of our Risen Savior for the first time. It has been so wonderful to see him take the path I never had the chance to as a child, to grow up always knowing of the love and care his Eternal Father has for him and growing to understand the extent to which that love was willing to go for him. There are some, and at one point I was one of them, who would argue that children of his age are too young to understand what, or rather Whom, they are receiving. Having gone through this and quite honestly interrogated him myself (yes, to be honest I would have not allowed him to go through with the Sacrament if I did not find him properly prepared – to me there’s no such thing with the Eucharist as “keeping with the schedule”) I can now properly and honestly attribute that to a severe case of adult convert myopic vision. I find myself having been guilty of that very arrogance of so many of the elite who thought the simple could never understand the Mass or its mysteries. Yet here is this young child who probably would struggle to spell transubstantiation showing a most pure and true grasp of what and Who is going on. It reminds me that the path from the heart to the head is much smoother than from the head to the heart; it indeed may be the only one where going up is faster than going down. I have so far to go…

This fine book by Fr. Benedict Groeschel, CFR, and James Monti is well summed-up by Fr. Groeschel in his introduction to his section of the book, speaking of the great mysteries of the Faith:

Your head should now be reeling with the thought of all of these mysteries. If it is not, go back and read the last paragraphs over again slowly because you missed what was being said. You can never sufficiently deal with the mystery of the Eucharist or the particular subject of this book, the devotion to the presence of Christ in this sacrament, unless you have a vibrant sense of mystery and have an awesome awareness of the incredible reality of this sacrament.

The last sentence is absolutely true – if you are not at least the tiniest bit open to the possibility that the Eucharist is Jesus Himself and therefore worthy of praise and adoration this book is not for you. If, however, there is even the slightest opening this may be the book that cracks it open for you. In it you will find a mix of history and theology, fact and lore. Very Catholic, that.

The book is comprised of two sections, one by each of the authors. In Fr. Groeschel’s section there were times I could almost hear his old Brooklyn voice narrating the words – he clearly was clearly putting his whole self into his writing. Given the structure of the book it should not be surprising there was some amount of overlap in parts. While repeated information can be a source of frustration, and I’ll admit there were places where it was more noticeable than others, this overlap was more than offset because each author was coming at the information from different directions; Fr. Groeschel more theological, psychological and to some extent sociological, Monti more historical. The two complement each other well. I am quite glad to have read this book, and I’d be willing to bet just about anyoen else would be as well.

First, Rich Leonardi tells us about both a beginner’s and an advanced course in Latin provided by the U.K.’s National Archives. I simply must find a way to improve my sketchy-at-best Latin skills. After all, it is little use telling people of the value of Latin if I haven’t remotely mastered it myself.

Second, Rorate Caeli lets us all know there is a course being offered on St. Thomas Aquinas. Ite ad Thomam has more details – it looks to be an interactive online course. I can manage to pull out both of these at nearly the same time, as well as another super-secret project I’m just getting started. Sure I can!

By The Dutchman at Catholic Dads.

I have only one addition: pray before, pray during, and pray after. Everything. If that sounds a lot like St. Paul’s admonition to “pray constantly” (1 Thes. 5:17), that’s because it pretty much is. It sounds impossible, but by constantly remembering the old Jesuit motto “ad majorem Dei gloriam” it does truly become easier every time you try.

Your Thinking is Abstract and Sequential

You like to do research and collect lots of information. The more facts you have, the easier it is for you to learn. You need to figure things out for yourself and consider all possibilities. You tend to become an expert in the subjects that you study. It’s difficult for you to work with people who know less than you do. You aren’t a very patient teacher, and you don’t like convincing people that you’re right.

You know, I could argue a couple of those points, but in the end they’re all pretty true to one extent or another. Some of them painfully so, as a matter of fact. These little quizzettes aren’t supposed to be for deep spiritual insight, but you know God makes use of what He’s given.

H/T to Servant and Steward.

Fr. Dwight Longenecker had an interesting discussion about the ad orientem posture with some of the students at his school after Mass. In part:

“You don’t feel slighted because I have turned my back to you? You sure I haven’t hurt your feelings?”

Laughter all around. “You’re not that good looking anyway Father.”

Russell Shaw has an excellent article at Inside Catholic on clericalism in the Church. The reason it’s good is that it doesn’t take just one side or the other but explores it and, as one could expect, finds that the truth is “in the middle”. One of my favorite quotes is this:

Not only that, one-dimensional emphasis in official Church circles on “lay ministry” is at the expense of time and energy that might better have been spent forming people for lay apostolate. Lately, the U.S. bishops’ conference has concentrated on setting norms for training people preparing to work for the Church as lay ecclesial ministers. Considering the important role these people often have in liturgy, catechesis, and other areas of Church life, their training certainly merits attention. But not at the cost of ignoring the formation of lay people for apostolate in the world. Yet that’s exactly what happens — and has been happening for a long time.

You see, that’s just the point – there is so much focus on the ad intra role of the laity they have no time or energy for what is, in reality, supposed to be their, if you will, “real” job. Yes, there is a very valid role for the laity working inside the Church. However, when people view having “done their duty” as having served as a lector or EMHC on Sunday you know something is desperately out of balance. And yes, I know people who think those extraordinary liturgical roles necessarily take precedence over non-liturgical apostolic work. I still, however, fail to understand how being an EMHC on Sunday and making Communion take two minutes less time can possibly be more valuable than proper spiritual formation of one’s self or one’s family or even evangelic work. It’s interesting that there is such an intersection between bad liturgical theology and bad ecclesiology, don’t you think?

Servant and Steward let us know there is one nice little gift now on preorder. An official commemorative book of the Pope’s visit to the US stuffed full of photos covering the full five days. Available in plenty of time for Father’s Day. That’s not a hint or anything, no. Not at all.

This is your friendly neighborhood reminder that tomorrow, May 3, is the day for the One Million Rosaries for Unborn Babies prayer event. I’m certainly hoping the count on that site isn’t the best we can do. C’mon, get the word out folks!

In a post at NLM on the Papal Mass at the Washington Nationals Stadium, Jeffrey Tucker reminds us of something very important:

Of the half dozen or so people I’ve spoken with, the number one thing that people mostly mentioned about this Mass had nothing to do with the music. They speak of the miracle of the silence. They talk about the spiritual comportment of the tens of thousands of people, that you could have all those people gathered in a space and that there were moments that were so still and so silent that you could hear a pin drop. This was what moved people. This was the unforgettable thing that happened.

One priest noted that this silence could not have happened were it not for good formation that is taking place in the parishes. People knew why they were there, and it wasn’t to impress the Pope with their singing. It was to be in the presence of the successor of Peter and to experience the real presence of Christ. When you think of that, awe-struck silence seems like an excellent response.

As I once read somewhere, “silence is its own song”. In the age of the iPod where people seemingly can’t go five minutes without some sort of noise vibrating their ear drums the only chance many people have to experience any silence at all is in church; we do a disservice to them by forcing a constant cacophony of noise to pervade every split second of the time they’re there.

If you’re still not agreeing with me on the subject of silence, let me ask you this: if Jesus were suddenly to appear to you face to face in all His Glory, would your first response be to belt out On Eagle’s Wings? When we keep in mind that a face-to-face encounter with Jesus is the whole point of the Mass, it changes what we’re willing and wanting to surround it with. Silence is its own song.