ON ORDINARY TIMES
By Lucia A. Silecchia

Can a lazy lack of creativity ever be good for the soul? Normally, I would answer no – unless you asked me during Lent when I was 19 years old.

That was a Lent I intended to take more seriously than I had before. A growing realization that, ready or not, adulthood was dawning led me to reflect more thoughtfully on that sacred season. Even then, I understood that in the wisdom of the church’s ancient calendar, forty days is a perfect length of time for a season of preparation.

I know that number has its origins in sacred traditions. But, as is true with so many things, the sacred tradition is beautifully matched with human nature. Forty days devoted to preparation is a season that is short enough that a commitment to something ambitious is less frightening than it might otherwise seem. Yet, it is long enough that a new practice or habit of the heart and soul has a chance of becoming more permanent.

In spite of my good intentions, when the Sunday before that long-ago Ash Wednesday rolled around, I had not yet decided what I could do so that my 19th Lent might be the season I hoped it would be. There were three days left, and nothing of note had crossed my mind.

Fortunately for me, that Sunday I was blessed to hear a homily that changed my life. It was filled with practical suggestions about Lenten practices that seemed especially intended for those of us who had not planned ahead. One that caught my ear was the simple, obvious invitation to attend Mass during the week during Lent. I had rarely given that any thought. Unless it was a special occasion, I was on the Sunday plan.

However, to my practical mind, this was a do-able Lenten suggestion. Conveniently, I walked past my parish church every morning on the way to my college classes. The three Masses celebrated every day meant no early wake-up was required. It was merely a half-hour time commitment. Most importantly, although I did not know the exact words from the Catechism at the time, I knew in my heart that Mass was “heart and summit of the church’s life.”

Thus, for want of another plan, I very casually began a practice that has lasted, with varying degrees of regularity, to this day – decades after that long ago Lent drew to a close.

I found that I began to treasure this weekday celebration, secure in the happy knowledge that around the world in tiny remote chapels, grand urban cathedrals, crumbling city churches, secluded mountain monasteries, far-flung military bases, parochial school auditoriums, and quiet convents, countless others were doing the same. A weekday morning Mass is the Eucharist at its simplest. Without distractions, it is a quiet, intimate start to the day and a cherished oasis before the hectic pace of life begins anew.

I love a grand liturgical celebration. Whether it is celebrated with an enthusiastic student choir, or majestic organ music shrouded with incense, or, yes, even the felt banners and tambourines of my childhood years, such celebrations fill the heart with awe. A large Sunday crowd gathered to praise the same God together is a beautiful reminder that we are all part of the family of God. A stirring Sunday homily, carefully planned, and an altar reverently adorned with flowers all point the way to God in a powerful celebration. The sometimes-too-rare moments of silence in a large Sunday crowd offer a chance to offer praise, petitions, apologies and thanks in the company of an extended parish family.

Yet, when I have the wisdom to make time for it, I also treasure those quiet celebrations during the week when two or three or more of us gather in God’s name, bringing Him the hopes, happiness, worries and woes of the day and receiving far more in return. I am grateful for the silence before and after this celebration, the way this time of the day reminds me that the journey through the day is never traveled alone or without sustenance.

I am grateful for that chance invitation years ago that introduced me to the sacredness of the simple, daily Mass. Now, I share that invitation with you. Come and share this beautiful prayer of ordinary times.

May your journey through Lent be filled with blessings this year.

(Lucia A. Silecchia is a Professor of Law at The Columbus School of Law at The Catholic University of America. Email her at silecchia@cua.edu.)

GUEST COLUMN
By James Tomek, Ph.D

Synodality in Mississippi? A meeting concept to seek basic truths. In line with the synodality listening sessions designed to give all us Catholics a voice, Father Nick Adam organized a workshop, led by Father Jim Wehner, a seminarian rector in New Orleans, for priests, deacons and lay ministers, to help them/us review ministry tactics in order to become better disciples, helping all parishioners talk about what the church needs to do to become better in the major vocation areas of priest, prophet and king. With the goal of voicing all our concerns to Pope Francis, parishioners in the diocese are meeting to discuss how the church can respond to biblical situations, renewing our Good Samaritan status.

Two major questions: what essential action should the church take? What is most important to you about what the church offers? Father Jim presented sessions where he took on subjects: the essence of the church; the New Evangelization of unchurched former Catholics; the meaning of discipleship, with examples from the Bible; and, finally, how the Eucharist is our defining “Sacrament” for exploring and creating missionary and ministry tactics. A good preparation for the Synodality sessions.

Father Jim starts, citing Jesus asking “Who do you say that I am?” to Peter. The “I” is really Jesus as the church. Peter says that Jesus and the church have words of everlasting life. The “enemy,” in various forms, causes confusion and separates us from Christ and the church. How do we respond to the enemy’s tough questions? Peter advises us to give answers in reverence and gentleness (1Peter 3:15).

Father Wehner takes us to the 17th and 18th centuries, where philosophers Hobbes and Locke promoted individual rights over the common good. While respecting individual rights, our discussion leader insists that the overall concern of the church and Jesus is the common good. We are all friends of Jesus, and no longer servants, in this struggle together. The “enemy” would prefer rugged individualism and no communion. Apathea is a virtue of detachment and a positive impersonal value where we leave our egos to support our neighbor, above any personal concerns. Our ego is the enemy. What specific vocational gift do I have to help and combat the enemy of self interest?

In the next session, Father Jim explains the new evangelization movement, where the church tries to get back former Catholics who have left the church, as well as the unchurched in general. The “enemy” here is further defined as “metaphysical disorientation.” We have privatized the important concerns of discernment. Our individual views take precedent over the community’s will. All our sacraments need to be community minded. Our mission is to act in unity as we, all lay people included, are invited to priesthood. By studying our institutions, like marriage, hospitals, education and so on, we need to rearticulate them with our current world.

Next session – discipleship. When did I become a disciple? Can we lose discipleship? What grace or gifts do we need to this discipleship? We find the gifts, or offices, of priest, prophet, and king in Luke when Jesus reads from Isaiah (Lk 4: 17-28).

Father Jim glosses these offices: the priest offers himself as victim sacrificing for others; the prophet teaches and proclaims truths; while the “king” takes care of others. Some hold these offices formally, but we all practice these ministries by our baptism.

An example of becoming a disciple is seen in the Magi when they come to witness Jesus’s birth. They became ministers, especially when they go back a different way, showing that they have changed their lives after witnessing Jesus. This session ends with a healing sentiment. Jesus cures Bartimaeus by opening up his ears – and our ears, as we train to listen better to each other.

In the final session, Father Jim shows how the Eucharist/Mass is the ideal place and order for things to happen. What is polarization? Two sides of an issue. Right or wrong? Win an argument. The wrong way. This is “Metaphysical disorientation.” Let’s be attentive to the whole story of issues.

The Eucharist is the Sacrament of Unity where we can partake in the discussion. We take the bread – taking on Jesus as our friend and model. We bless the bread – saying that it is good and worthy of our community. Then, by breaking the bread, we become wounded healers sharing our penance with the community.

The Mass means “sent” – mission – sent to do the work of the intercessions that we prayed earlier. These intercessions, like feeding the poor and being pure in our intentions, are beatitudes – those conditions that bring us closer to the Kingdom of God. Us? The Communion of Saints, including family and friends, living, and gone, whom I pray for often, offering a spot of the eternal. Why do I go to church?

(James Tomek is a retired language and literature professor at Delta State University who is currently a Lay Ecclesial Minister at Sacred Heart in Rosedale and also active in RCIA at Our Lady of Victories in Cleveland.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

In the world of the arts, they make a distinction between persons who create an artifact, an artist, a sculptor or a novelist, and persons who write about artists and their works. We have novelists and literary critics, artists and art critics; and both are important. Critics keep art and literature from bad form, sentimentality, vulgarity and kitsch; but it’s the artists and novelists who produce the substance; without them critical assessment has no function.

For example, the book The Diary of Anne Frank is a masterpiece. Countless books and articles have been written about it, but these are not the masterpiece, the substance, the artifact that so deeply touched the soul of millions. They are commentaries about the artifact. Of course, sometimes a person can be both, a novelist and a literary critic, an artist, and an art critic; still the distinction holds. These are separate crafts and separate disciplines.

That same distinction holds true within the area of theology and spirituality, though it is often not recognized. Some people write theology and others write about theology, just as some people write spirituality and others write about spirituality. Right now, I’m writing about theology and spirituality rather than actually doing theology or spirituality.

Perhaps an example can help. Henri Nouwen was one of the most popular spiritual writers in the past seventy years. Nouwen wrote spirituality; he never wrote about it, he wrote it. He was not a critic; he wrote spiritual texts. Many people, including myself, have written about Nouwen, about his life, his works, and why he influenced so many people. Strictly speaking, that’s writing about spirituality as opposed to writing spirituality as Nouwen did. Truth be told, we don’t have an abundance of spiritual writers today the caliber of Nouwen. What we do have, particularly at an academic level, is an abundance of critical writings about spirituality.

I offered the example of a contemporary spirituality writer, Henri Nouwen, but the distinction is perhaps even clearer when we look at classical spiritual writers. We have in fact created a certain “canon” of spirituality writers whom we deem as classics: the Desert Fathers and Mothers, the Pseudo-Dionysius, Julian of Norwich, Nicholas of Cusa, Francis of Assisi, Dominic, Ignatius, John of the Cross, Theresa of Avila, Francis de Sales, Vincent de Paul and Therese of Lisieux, among others. None of these wrote works of criticism in se, they wrote spirituality. Countless books have been written about each of them, critically assessing their works. As valuable as these books are, they are in the end not spirituality books, but books about spirituality.

The same is true for theology. We have infinitely more books written about theology than we have books that are actual theology. The word “theology” comes from two Greek words, Theos (God) and logos (word). Hence, in essence, theology is “words about God.” Most theology books and courses on theology contain some “words about God,” but these are generally dwarfed by “words about words about God.”

This is not a criticism, but a clarification. I have taught and written in the area of theology and spirituality for nearly fifty years and am blissfully unaware of this distinction most of the time, mainly because we need both and the two simply flow in and out of each other. However, there is a point where it becomes important not to confuse or conflate the critical assessment of an artifact with the artifact itself, and in our case to recognize that writing about theology and spirituality is not the same thing as actually doing theology and doing spirituality. Why? Why highlight this distinction?

Because we need the artist and the critic to speak to different places inside of us and we need to recognize (explicitly at times) where we need to be fed or guided. The artist speaks to the soul with one kind of intent, namely, to inspire, to inflame, to deepen, to bring new insight and to move us affectively. The critic speaks with a different intent: to guide, to keep us balanced, sane, robust, clear-headed, and within the bounds of decency, community, proper aesthetics, and orthodoxy. Both are important. One saves the other from unbridled sentimentality and the other saves the other from simply being an empty exercise. In a vast over-simplification, we might put it this way. Critics define the rules of the game and hold the players to the rule; but art, theology and spirituality are the game. Games need to be refereed or they quickly degenerate.

In our churches today there is often a tension between those who are trying to create new insight, generate new enthusiasm, and speak more affectively to the soul; and those who are guarding the castles of academia, orthodoxy, liturgy and good taste. Academic theology is often in tension with devotional life; liturgists are often in tension with pastors, and popular spiritual writers are often in tension with critics. One or the other may irritate us, but each is ultimately a friend.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)

SPIRIT AND TRUTH
By Father Aaron Williams

It seems that more and more we are referencing time today by “before” or “after” COVID. One of the effects of the pandemic has been a tendency for families to request to forego the normal funeral Mass and to simply have an outdoor graveside service for their deceased loved ones. Usually this is done to avoid gathering a large crowd, and because it is outside and in open air. However, I fear that sometimes families are having graveside services in order to avoid the stress or expense that usually comes with planning a full funeral. In these situations, I usually like to counsel people that it is far less likely they will regret having a funeral for their deceased loved one, than they would regret not having one.

But we as Catholics do not believe in the necessity of funeral Masses simply because it seems like “the right thing to do.” The Catholic Funeral Mass, we believe, accomplishes a spiritual work, which is absent in a funeral outside a Mass, let alone a graveside service. (Perhaps it is important to mention that there is technically not a Catholic rite for a ‘graveside service.’ There is simply the rite of burial which is always done at a graveside whether a funeral Mass precedes it or not).

The secular world has started to call funerals “celebrations of life,” but this opposes the Catholic understanding of a funeral. When a Catholic goes to a funeral, we are not there because we need to celebrate a life lived. In death “life is changed, not ended,” we say in the funeral preface. A funeral which merely makes mention of a person’s earthly life denies our belief in the resurrection, and the very real need that the dead have of our prayers.

In the Second Book of Maccabees, we hear the story of Judas Maccabeus and his soldiers gathering the bodies of the those who had fallen in battle and offering prayers and sacrifices for them. This was done because Judas realized these fallen men had committed the sin of idolatry, which needed to be atoned. Afterwards, the sacred author records, “they turned to prayer, beseeching that the sin which had been committed might be wholly blotted out … [and they] also took up a collection, man by man, to the amount of two thousand drachmas of silver, and sent it to Jerusalem to provide for a sin offering. In doing this [Judas] acted very well and honorably, taking account of the resurrection. For if he were not expecting that those who had fallen would rise again, it would have been superfluous and foolish to pray for the dead.” (2 Maccabees 12:42-44)
The fundamental purpose of the Catholic funeral is to pray for the dead, and the most efficacious prayer we can ever offer is the Holy Mass. Hence, there is no greater prayer for our dead loved ones than a funeral Mass. In doing so we fulfill both a spiritual and corporal work of mercy, by praying for and burying the dead.

All of the texts and prayers of the Catholic funeral point to this double reality: that the dead are in need of prayer and purification because of their sins; and that God is merciful and promises us the hope of resurrection unto eternal life. We come to the funeral, in the words of Father Paul Scalia (preaching at his father — Antonin Scalia’s funeral) “to lend our prayers to that perfecting, to that final work of God’s grace, in freeing [the dead] from every encumbrance of sin.”

The overall emotion of the funeral Mass is mercy, which is why even in the reformed liturgy the prescribed liturgical color for a funeral is violet or black. In the Dioceses of the U.S., white is given by indult as a third option “when pastorally appropriate.” It should be noted that in some cultures, particularly in some Asian cultures, white is the color of mourning.

The funeral Mass is not, as some call it, a “celebration of resurrection,” as we know that before being raised to the perfection of heaven, most Christians must undergo the spiritual purification that God offers to souls in purgatory. We do our deceased loved ones a great injustice by failing to pray for them.

Often, when planning funerals, we are filled with difficult emotions, and we want to forget the reality of death by distracting us with happier thoughts. But the truth is that death is a result of the fall — of the sin of our first parents, and our inherited sinfulness. The hope and joy of Christian death is that Christ can purify us with His grace and make us worthy of His presence forever. And we can lend our aid to this perfecting by our own works of prayer, fasting and almsgiving and most especially by our offering of the Holy Mass.

(Father Aaron Williams is parochial vicar at St. Patrick and St. Joseph Meridian.)

THINGS OLD AND NEW
By Ruth Powers

As Catholics we believe the Holy Spirit is guiding the church and that the teachings of the church develop with this inspiration. This belief, however, has led to some misunderstandings by non-Catholics (and a few Catholics) regarding the level of authority carried by a somewhat bewildering array of documents and pronouncements issuing from the Vatican under its authority to teach on faith and morals (magisterium).

Ordinarily, Catholics are expected to accept magisterial teachings without any need to delve into levels of authority. However, sometimes it is important to know, especially in times of controversy when some Catholic dissenters may try to dismiss teachings that are infallible while others either underestimate the authority of recent magisterial teachings or overestimate the authority of earlier ones. Non-Catholics may believe that we think every utterance of the pope comes directly from God.

The agent proposing the doctrine on faith or morals has some bearing on the level of authority of what is taught. These agents are the Pope, Ecumenical Councils, and the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (whose teachings must be accepted by the Pope).

Let’s first consider papal documents. In order of descending authority, they are:
Ex cathedra statements — These statements are sometimes called extraordinary magisterium and are few and far between. They occur when a pope defines a document as the head of the church. These statements are explicitly stated to be infallible. An example is the dogma of the Assumption of Mary.

Infallible doctrine — These statements are sometimes called ordinary magisterium and occur when the pope affirms a previously taught doctrine as infallible.

Apostolic/Dogmatic/Papal Constitutions — This is the most solemn form of document issued by a pope. Ex cathedra statements and definitive teachings are generally issued in this form of document, as are legislative acts by the pope meant to make changes in Canon Law. Examples are Ex Corde Ecclesiae by St. John Paul II (rules governing Catholic Universities) and Pascite gregem Dei, issued by Pope Francis in December of 2021 which reformed parts of Canon Law dealing with investigation and penalties for certain offenses, especially child abuse.

Papal Bulls — So named because of the lead seals, or bulla, attached to them. These documents were used widely until the 19th century but not so much anymore. They affirm a wide variety of things, such as the excommunication of Henry VIII when he remarried after his divorce from Catherine of Aragon.

Papal Encyclicals – A pastoral letter addressed by the pope to the whole church. Encyclical letters generally address matters of faith or morals, encourage a particular commemoration or devotion, or deal with matters of church discipline which are to be universally observed.

Apostolic Letters — Letters written by a pope to a specific community or to address a specific need.

Apostolic Exhortation – Exhortations generally encourage some virtue or activity. They are frequently issued following a synod of bishops, in which case they are known as post-synodal apostolic exhortations. Exhortations do not define church doctrine and are not considered legislative. An example would be Amoris Laetitia, issued by Pope Francis after the Synod on the Family.

And finally, there are homilies, audiences and interviews, which carry the least weight of authority.

A term that has received much attention lately is moto proprio. This is not a document but rather refers to how a document was issued. When a pope issues a document moto proprio it means he does so of his own interest and signals that this is a matter of special importance to him. In the church, the pope is both an executive and a legislator, and if a document issued moto proprio, he acts in his legislative capacity. Legislative changes made by the pope overrule decisions made by other Vatican departments.

Another source of official church teachings are the documents of ecumenical councils, which are those councils made up of bishops from the whole church rather than from a specific region. Council documents, in descending order of authority, are dogmatic constitutions, decrees, declarations and pastoral constitutions. These apply to the entire church, whereas documents issued by regional councils apply only to the regions involved.

The third source of teaching is the Congregations for the Doctrine of the Faith. The material coming out of this Vatican office is varied. They can also issue discipline, sometimes with penalties, to clergy misconduct. Documents take the following forms, in descending order of importance: decrees, declarations, monita (“warnings”), responsa (answers to questions), explanations and press conferences.

The theological weight given to a particular document depends on the pope’s manner of acceptance. The greatest weight is given to decrees approved in modo specifico (in every part). The next level is formal acceptance (which is often used in disciplinary matters). Next is simply acceptance, and finally is the order that a document is published (least theological weight).

As you can see, not all materials released by the Vatican carry the same level of authority. A comment by a pope during a homily is not to be interpreted as having equal weight as an apostolic constitution or an encyclical, although secular media tends to treat them as such. Knowing what kind of a document contains a statement can help Catholics unpack its level of impact on the teachings of the church.

(Ruth Powers is the program coordinator for St. Mary Basilica Parish in Natchez.)

ThEOLOGY AT THE MOVIES
By James Tomek, Ph.D

Is “Jezebel,” a 1938 movie set in the 1850s South with Bette Davis, worth seeing from a theological view? Turner Classic Movies shows it regularly. The protagonist, Julie Marston, appears to have little in common with Jezebel, Elijah’s enemy, in the 800s BCE, seen in the Book of Kings. However, by comparing the two characters, we can arrive at a positive interpretation of the Deuteronomic moral code of the Bible. A review of the evil manipulative workings of Jezebel, and its connection with the Deuteronomic Covenant, will reveal her as an evil conscience influence on the mind of Julie, scheming to keep her man in an 1852 New Orleans business world, with the backdrop threat of Yellow Fever. Is there a deeper reading of the Deuteronomic code than just reward and punishment for being faithful, or not, to the Moses’ covenant? Does Julie have a perfect contrition?

Jezebel comes to Israel via King Omri, who succeeded Solomon and reestablished the Northern Kingdom’s power with Samaria as a base. He married his son Ahab to Jezebel, a Phoenician, who came with her pagan god Baal, along with the Phoenician ambition in commerce. Baal is a Canaanite god of rain that promises wealth and good crops, without imposing any ethical responsibilities. She and Ahab are central figures in the struggles with the major prophets of the era – Elijah and then Elisha. Elijah wins a fire battle against her prophets, ending a drought that he inflicted on the land. Jezebel’s overall power continually frightens Elijah. She and Ahab, in a murderous plot, take the land of Naboth for their vineyard. Jezebel writes secretive letters that eventually doom Naboth. She dies unrepentant and punished – her dead body eaten by dogs.

Julie Marston is a plantation owner in love with Preston “Pres” Dillard (Henry Fonda), a banker who persuades his New Orleans colleagues to invest in railroads and factories instead of the river economy and slave labor. Pres’s business dealings preoccupy his mind, causing him to neglect his love interest. To get his attention, Julie resorts, shockingly, to wearing a red dress, reserved for married women, at the annual Olympus Ball, instead of white, the mandatory color for unmarried women. She also tries to incite Pres’s jealousy by asking her former beau, Buck Cantrell (George Brent), to take her to the ball. Pres has a mean streak as he refuses to take Julie from the ball, punishing her, by keeping her shamefully on the dance floor, for refusing his request to wear white. He ends his relationship with Julie, going North on business, returning with a wife, Amy.

Julie, in a mixed-up state on how to win Pres back, does succeed in causing anger between her former beaus, who are opposites. Cantrell is a Southern gentleman, comfortable with the slave way of life and happy with an economic system that relies on slavery and the river trade. He accuses Pres Dillard, with his interests in railroads, factories, and non-slave labor, of being an abolitionist and traitor to the Southern way of life. Their disagreements carry over to the treatment of the Yellow Fever epidemic. The “Old South” conservatives prefer to think of the “plague” as passing, while the “New South” liberals, like Pres and Dr. Livingston, want to learn from the previous 1832 outbreak and clean the swamps and city streets.

Julie’s manipulations in having the men fight over her fail, as Buck, having insulted his rival’s “Yankee” wife, is killed in a duel by Pres’s brother Ted. Pres, himself, is bitten by a mosquito carrying the fever virus, while Julie’s Aunt Belle labels her a Jezebel – a person who has done evil in the sight of God. While not as maliciously evil as her Biblical counterpart, Julie is possessed by her scheming spirit.

The Jezebel of the Bible brings with her Baal and the false prophets or idols who allow her to justify her greed. What are the idols in Julie’s and our age? The “prophets” who praise profit would be one. Quick fixes instead of long run thinking. While the treatment of blacks in this film are a little outdated, the message of white condescension is still clear. Julie undergoes a conversion, as she will accompany and care for Pres at “Lazarus” Island, the doomed colony for fever victims. She convinces Pres’s wife of her husband’s love for her. The story ends with Julie in the cart of victims going to their sure death. However, she feels clean again.

In Deuteronomic history, from Moses down through Joshua, Judges, the Books of Samuel to the Book of Kings to the Babylonian exile of 585 BCE, one sees that faithfulness to Moses’ covenant is rewarded, while disobedience brings punishment. While this outcome is not always true, as we see in Job, there is a sense of peace brought on when one does the right thing covenant-wise. The prophet Micah aptly sums up the covenant – do right, love goodness and walk humbly with God.

Some film critics thought that Julie’s conversion was too sudden. Theologically, especially in the lament psalms, God’s grace arrives quickly and undeservedly. Take Psalm 22, for example, the one we read on Palm Sunday. The sufferer cries out “My God my God, why have you forsaken me?” Look at the sudden reversal of fortune from verses 21 to 22.

v19 But you O Lord do not be far away! O my help come quickly to my aid!
v20 Deliver my soul … from the power of the dog!
v21 Save me from the mouth of the lion!
v22 From the horns of the wild oxen you have rescued me.

Julie’s character is complex as she does not seem to know what she wants. She is a strong-willed woman in a patriarchal society. In an early scene, she is being fitted with a white dress that is wide and fluffy, giving her an impressive stature. When the dress makers lift the dress off, we see her very slim small body inside a cage that served to keep the dress wide. It takes a lot of work to go from appearance to reality. Julie does get real in her repentance and does stay true to the Deuteronomic code by doing good in the sight of the Lord. The reward is in the sacrament of penance itself.

(James Tomek is a retired language and literature professor at Delta State University who is currently a Lay Ecclesial Minister at Sacred Heart in Rosedale and also active in RCIA at Our Lady of Victories in Cleveland.)