Strange Mercy: Sermon 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time

English novelist and thinker Graham Green states in his novel Brighton Rock  - I admit I have not read this novel, but I heard the quote on my favorite TV show The West Wing.

"You can’t conceive, my child, nor can I or anyone the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God."

We Christians usually see the Hebrew Scriptures as a series of a bronze-age stories with peculiarities and moralities that don’t seem to befit our own day and age. The first reading starts out like that – the LORD rolling up his sleeves in preparation to deal out some well-deserved vengeance for the awful sins of Sodom and Gomorrah; the “cities of the plain” which have historically been used by biblical scholars (and not-scholars) as metaphors for homosexuality. While later Hebrew prophets and modern biblical scholars name the sins of Sodom & Gomorrah as adultery, pridefulness and uncharitablility, that’s actually not here nor there for this passage.

What matters is the mercy of God. And the power of our prayers.

 

As the Lord prepares His wrath. Abraham stands before Him and asks if the innocent deserve to be swept away with the guilty; would the LORD spare the city of 50 were innocent? The LORD agrees to spare the city for the sake of the 50 innocents; I imagine God looking at Abraham with a cocked eyebrow, waiting for more like a stage manager in a play. Abe asks for full mercy for the sake of the 45, then the 40, then 30, 20, 10. Each time The LORD assents the City will be spared over and over again even if there be but 10.

 

I like to think Abe kept going. 5 then 4 then 3-2-1. Because the mercy of God abounds. Because a righteous person dared to ask God to spare the innocent. Abe asked God. And God listened.  But the appalling strangeness of God’s mercy is baffling. What if Abraham had NOT begged got to save the innocent? Or elsewhere in Abraham’s story, what if the Angel hadn’t stopped him from sacrificing his son?

 

The strangeness of God’s mercy lives within all of us. How often are we enraged about being wrong – real or perceived? From being cut off in traffic, to a heated argument with a coworker or the betrayal of a loved one; I think we all have felt that brief flash from our shadow selves when these things happen. We may stew, let our rage grow and even wish harm on someone for one hot minute. To become wrath, to exact vengeance.  And then, the vast majority of us thank God, come around to the futility of such actions. We let the car pass, we settle back into a working relationship with our work colleagues, we move on and maybe even forgive our beloveds’ betrayal. All little works of the mercy of God working through our own hearts and lives.

 

We experience that strangeness when we pray as Jesus taught us to pray. For me, it’s in that one line… forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Now I’ve said the Our Father so often as a child on through adulthood, it’s so rote, that I can miss what I’m asking God here; If you’ll allow a paraphrase; please God forgive our sins IN THE FASHION THAT WE FORGIVE PEOPLE WHO WRONG US.  We ask God to have people treat us when we do wrong in the same fashion that we treat others. Not others who do wrong in general, but specifically those who wrong US. So God…treat us the way we treat the driver who cuts us off… the belligerent coworker, the beloved who betray us. This challenge is the beating heart of what it means to be Christian, to me. This requires us not to simply proclaim Christianity but to strive to live it with each action that we take towards ourselves, towards others and toward God. We will stumble and we will stumble often. A good portion of the time we may struggle against the idea of forgiving those who trespass against us; God knows I do. But think of reciting the prayer Jesus taught us in that context; if we first do not forgive, we will not be forgiven. But if we lead with love and forgiveness as a default, then maybe the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God won’t seem so strange anymore. 

Beloved "in the world"

Being Beloved of God in the world. How do I do it? Here are some ways:

- Remember that I am indeed “in the world”. I have fantasized for decades about being a cloistered monk in habit, living a life devoted to contemplative prayer in the walls of a secluded monastery. THIS IS NOT A POSSIBILITY. I am a married man twice over with grown children, a career, financial debt, and an active priestly ministry. Admiring contemplative religious folk is fine, it really is. But pining for a life to which I have not been called, to the detriment of the life I DO have is, to put it bluntly, a sin. Actively fantasizing about the way I do is escapism on the level of addiction.

-   BE PRESENT to my family. There is much to do in order to be an active participant in my household. To my wives, to my children, to my pets. There is laundry to do and things to clean, and rooms to switch, and animals to feed and walk. I have my greatest physical issues when I try to rush these things as thought there were a time limit and someone is keeping score. I am older now and I have to learn to pace myself. When I am slow methodical, and deliberate, I am far less handicapped than I perceive myself to be. I need to stop treating these activities as annoyances that keep me from comfort and see them as necessities to make my surroundings a sanctuary.

- BE PRESENT to prayer and meditation. When I open myself to this option, I feel the Spirit within me, and my day is far more productive. However, my prayer and meditation needs to be more than saying a rosary, doing the daily readings, the Liturgy of the Hours, or even celebrating Mass. Praying is more than recitation of memorized words, flung haphazardly “upward”. I need to enter into the prayer, BE the prayer. Thoughts and prayers are wonderful, sure. Thoughts prayers IN ACTION have the capacity to change the world. What good does presiding at Mass do anyone, unless I am also walking the walk of a beloved man ofGod? Am I being kind? Am I being fair-minded? Am I LIVING the Beatitudes or am I simply reciting them?  

- Treat my body as a temple. If I am beloved of God, I need to love my body. I don’t right now, not at all. I am not taking care of my physical nor psychological health. This needs to change. 

Sermon ~ Pentecost

The first reading feels an awful lot like the state of our country and world right now. From the President, Congress & Supreme Court on down to each of us. Everyone is talking and no one is listening. I am guilty of it myself. What I always tell my older son, who is passionate about political and social issues, what I always try to remember myself, is that “everyone has a story”. Everyone has a reason for thinking the way they do. We see systemic racism, queerphobia, misogyny, anti-choice, etc. Those viewpoints have oftentimes been ingrained and reinforced by a person’s nuclear and extended family, their surroundings, their church community is they have one and their secular community, over generations. What we see as obvious compassionate truths are seen as against nature, against God, against common sense, against the moral order; what others see as truth is as obvious as the blue in the sky. So what happens then?  We “babble”. We talk at each other, past each other, over each other, as loud and as forcefully as possible. We don’t wait for an answer, or the other person’s viewpoint, because we ARE right after all. Why can’t they SEE it??? It’s as obvious…as the blue in the sky.

Why can’t they see it? Because many times we simply aren’t speaking the same language. What we hear are THOSE PEOPLE babbling at us. What THEY hear, is US PEOPLE babbling at them. It’s a stalemate before the game even begins; we have all decided that we aren’t going to hear each other because we’re right and they aren’t; they’ll hear the truth if we have to ram it into their ears.

So I have to do what I’ve exhorted my son James to do when he “others” those with whom he vehemently disagrees; Listen for God’s beloved person under the other, their language behind the babble. Hear their story if they’ll tell it. Offer my own story if they’ll hear it. Remember the truth that every single one of us is Beloved of God. Lead with compassion, a listening heart. Lead with love. We do not have to agree, be in lockstep with every issue or even most issues. We can BEGIN to quiet the babble by recognizing the dignity and goodness and worth of the person in front of us. Whoever they are. Whatever they believe. Begin there. And let the Spirit do Her work from there.

Let anyone who thirsts come to me and drink...

As for the Gospel,  I cannot think of a better way to describe St. Francis Community of Faith. All are welcome in this place. And it is fitting that now, with the Church celebrating her founding, we of St. Francis will celebrate a new beginning as well.

I remember walking into this church with my partner a few years ago in the middle of Advent. At the time I was in my 1^st year of interfaith seminary at One Spirit Learning Alliance (no relation). And I was searching. Before entering seminary, I made my break with the Roman Church official by resigning from the Secular Franciscan Order. It was heart wrenching to do, because the Roman Church was all I knew and I loved my Franciscan family; really the only thing that was holding me there.  I was learning much about the nature of Spirit through all the other world religions I was being exposed to through seminary. I was indeed experiencing the Spirit through Sufi dervishes, Buddhist sangha meditation, and Hindu prayer. But what I was gradually learning was that my heart and my lens through which I recognized Spirit most clearly remained Catholic Christian. But how could I reconcile this with leaving the Roman Church? I’d been aware of the Independent Catholic movement for quite some time and had always been intrigued. But there was no way to access it. There was nothing local. And at the time, I had no real exposure to the wonders of zoom. 

And then I found out about a little Catholic community that met in Plainview. A few towns over. I don’t remember if it was a Facebook search or what. But St. Francis came up in my feed. I remember reaching out to Bishop Ken on Facebook who said “Come on down!” So we did.  We were welcomed at the door by Ken and we found our seats. The big Christmas tree was in the corner and there were a couple of other congregants and that was it. I was fine with that; melting into a crowd would have been too easy. Being in the presence of Word and Sacrament for the first time in maybe 2 years was moving for me. As we were invited up to the altar to bear witness to the consecration, Jesus was waiting for me there like He’d been in every Tabernacle since my first Holy Communion. It was the strangest feeling of coming home.

After Mass, I had the opportunity to thank Bishop Ken for the beautiful Mass. We got to talking for a few moments and I mentioned I was currently studying in an interfaith seminary. He said, “Well then you’ll just have to come back when you’re ordained and say Mass for us!”

I can’t express my shock in that moment, though I am sure my partner could describe it. That was the beginning of my path to priesthood with the Catholic Diocese of One Spirit and St. Francis Community of faith.

And now we have come to yet another blind curve in our path; we don’t know what lies ahead, in a more profound way than usual. St. Francis Community of Faith will have new more comfortably fitting home, outside of the familiar structure of an established “brink and mortar” church for the first time. As Bishop Ken is fond of saying, our community is small but mighty!  And on this Pentecost our small and mighty community needs to reinvigorate and perhaps be born again in many ways. Each of us separately and all of us together should consider what gifts we can bring to the Table and share with the community at large. As I mentioned in my email last week, our weekly Mass is indeed the center of our Christian life, where we are nourished at the Eucharistic Table. But consider what we are being nourished FOR. The poor, those in emotional and spiritual need, the destitute… those who are “othered”. How can we bring the Spirit of St. Francis not only into our church gatherings but into the community at large? How do we fulfill our Great Commission to show the world the very face of Love? Each of us, all of us, have unique gifts that no one else in the world possesses; as Paul tells us, we are the firstfruits of the Spirt. Let us each discern together how to let the fruit of St. Francis blossom and fulfill God’s promise of a better world. It sounds so overwhelming, but Act as if ye have faith and faith will be given unto thee. Or to put it in more familiar terms… Fake it til ya make it. Jesus promised that He would be there where 2 or 3 are gathered in His name. Here we are. The Spirit has come and is with us.

Let us listen to Her.

A prayer for Pentecost~

Come, Holy Spirit, come!

Come as holy fire & burn in us,

come as holy wind & cleanse us,

come as holy light & lead us,

come as holy truth & teach us,

come as holy forgiveness & free us,

come as holy love & enfold us,

come as holy power & enable us,

come as holy life & dwell in us, convict us, convert us, consecrate us, until we are wholly Yours ❤

Sermon: Sunday after Ascension, Seventh Sunday of Easter

I had a whole different sermon planned out; Jesus encouraging His disciples during the Ascension farewell discourse and promising them their Advocate, the Holy Spirit to continue to guide them. Maybe I would go on about it in a vague way. But my God, do we need an Advocate NOW in a concrete way.

19 children, murdered. 2 teachers, murdered. 17 more wounded.

These were 4^th grade children. CHILDREN between 8 and 10 years old. With families and friends and toys and baseball bats and Xboxes and Barbie dolls and favorite colors and favorite games and hopes and dreams. Terrified, screaming, snuffed out, one by one, with their heroic teachers doing everything they could to get themselves between the bullets and their kids.

Where, God, is our Advocate, we rightfully wonder in these situations??? Our Church celebrates her Pentecostal Birthday in only a week’s time, but the Holy Spirit seems so far away doesn’t She? It is so tempting to bathe in the relative safety of a progressive state like New York, to the point of numbness. Texas is so far away. Hell, even Buffalo – the PREVIOUS week’s mass shooting – is on the other side of the state. It can happen anywhere, though can’t it? How many elementary schools, middle schools, high schools, colleges and churches are here on Long Island? Hundreds upon hundreds.

It can happen anywhere – back in 1993, my father was in the same car with Colin Ferguson, the Long Island Railroad gunman. It was December 7^th 1993, my mom’s 52^nd birthday. He caught the 5:33 out of Penn Station as usual. Dad got off at the New Hyde Park Station, as usual. And the shooting began when as the train pulled out of the station. Dad was late coming home because he stopped by the florist to pick up roses for mom. By the time he arrived home 20 minutes late, our household was in a frenzy; Mom already saw what was happening on the news and knew it had happened on Dad’s regular train. We were all imagining the horrific worst… and then dad walked in the door, roses in hand, wondering what all the fuss was about. When he saw the news; he realized he had been sitting only a few seats from Colin Ferguson. God smiled on dad that day.

But not on others. Six were killed and nineteen were wounded on that train.

WHY does this happen? Why this school and not that one? Why THESE kids and not those? Why those other commuters and not my Dad? It’s senseless, isn’t it?  Where is God???

Years ago I asked my old spiritual director, Father Jim, a crusty ancient Irish priest, about the location of God during these horrible times such as these. At that time and in that spiritual counseling session specifically, I was wrestling with being a victim of serial childhood assault – I don’t remember how it came up. I remember being in session with Fr. Jim and crying, angrily asking him, “Where the hell was GOD when I was being assaulted???” Jim breathed in deep and said “He was being assaulted with you, Tom. God is with us. ALWAYS Emmanuel. Our Passion our trials our crosses are HIS. Fully God and FULLY HUMAN. God goes through everything with us. ALL OF IT.”   It sounded horrific when he said that to me 15 years ago. And I don’t much like to think about it now, in all honestly.

But….let’s together think on it a moment.

Emmanuel. God with us.

We are the hands and feet and head and heart of the Living God. The Advocate, the Paraclete, the Holy Spirit dwells right here in this gathering, right here in each one of us and in all of us together. There is Hope to be found in that knowledge, even if our anger and sadness and fear cloud that knowledge for a while.

By all means, LET’S BE ANGRY.

We’ve all heard of righteous anger –the senseless murder of 2 classrooms worth of 4^th grade children and their teachers cry out for that anger.

 AND we all must grieve – this was a horrific and preventable act. 

And we are human beings; we are allowed to be afraid. This past week I was speaking with a man I have been friends with since childhood – we spent the tail end of grammar school and all of high school together; we were the weird bullied kids. First ones on our block to get our ears pierced, listen to heavy metal and punk rock music and play in a band together. He was best man at my wedding in 1996, and we have remained close since, though we see each other far too seldom. He and his wife adopted a little girl 6 years ago; she is truly a model in the making, an old time beauty with the heart of an angel. Being a father has made my friend an even better man than he was before; I have never seen parents more in love with their child. After the shooting I spoke to him and his wife this week to check in on them – even here in NY they are terrified to send their girl to school. What is it’s the last kiss? The last goodbye? His wife posted that she said cheerfully the day after the shooting that “I think today is gonna be a great day, Mommy!”, and felt a sinking feeling I think is reserved for parents panicking about the safety of their kids. I’d feel the same if I had to send my boys to school under similar circumstances when they were younger. My friends are atheists – and they gladly accepted my prayers for their daughter and their family.

So we can be angry and sad and fearful. But Pentecost is coming. And so is the Holy Spirit.

Let us turn our anger into Justice – we need to remember to stay or get involved in the civil process, contact our elected representatives, write “letters to the editor” or elsewhere, demonstrate as we are able, and open our mouths to decry the injustice for all to hear. We need to ask hard questions like; what roles did the gun debate, mental illness, high school bullying, and systematic racism play in placing those automatic weapons into the hands of Salvador Ramos and a tactical vest around his body last Tuesday morning?

 Let us turn our grief into consolation – notice those around you who may have been affected in a profound way by this and similar events. Be the presence of Love to them, however they need you to be. Call or email or text or visit them. Listen to them. Hold them. Cry with them. Sometimes simple presence is all that’s required to let light in. Even a little light. Even if it’s just for a moment. And above all, notice when YOU’RE being affected. Reach out to your beloveds. Practice self-care and self-healing. Remember that we’re never alone.

Above all - Let us turn our fear into Hope. It is easy to despair when we look at the state of our communities, big and small, particularly when seemingly unbearable tragedies like this occur. Never forget we are an Easter People, we are a community of Hope. Hope is our hallmark.  As Bishop Ken wrote in his address to this tragedy, we as Christians need to be a sign of the healing loving presence of the Divine in our prayers and actions toward all people.  

So let us be a sign of Hope. Live Emmanuel, God with us. WE ARE THE ADVOCATE. We are the Spirit’s hands and feet and head and heart. As the Living Breathing Body of Christ, let us not only merely offer our thoughts and prayers; the term has become a punchline, almost a verbal tic at this point from politicians who see the horror but are loathe to change it. Let us bring form and shape and LIFE to those prayers by being the Spirit of Love our world is so very thirsty for. Let us BE the prayer. Let us BE the change we wish to see in the world.

Our Lord Jesus has ascended and is now “working from home”.  Let us BE the Spirit that now dwells within us all.

Ordinary priesthood

I ignore the mundane everyday; I mean REALLY ignore it. The Celtic way of prayer that finds the sacred in the ordinary completely eludes me, although I thought that I had been following it all this time. No that’s not really correct; it doesn’t elude me. I have tried to elude the idea of accepting sacredness in ordinary life, not the other way around.  I look for high falootin’ Dr. Strange type magic, with enormous consequences against the Dark Dimension/ Satan/Whatever.

The only problem is that this isn’t a f**king comic book. This is the real world.

All these…decades… I have been trying to distinguish myself as unique and wondrous with all my delving into so many paths; from the Knights of Columbus, Hibernians, to Wicca to veganism and everything else. I needed those labels to “set me apart”. I’m totally missing the fact that my uniqueness and wondrousness is present and shining already. Right there in my everyday ordinary life is Thomas who is Beloved of God. I say this all the time to other people, how before anything they can imagine, they are God’s beloved child and how beautiful is THAT?

Somehow I have believed that doesn’t pertain to me. I must be the one that people flock to In order to receive blessing and wisdom. And blessing and wisdom is wonderful, and it is good that I impart that when I am able; I DO HAVE IT TO GIVE. The only thing is… I keep that very blessing and wisdom at arm’s length from myself.

I have run away from simply being Beloved of God and have gotten hung up on titles and vestments and delusions of grandeur. I’m an ordinary man with people who love me; there’s no title or affiliation that can make my life any more sacred than that. I have missed the point of being a Priest. Priesthood isn’t to wear special clothes or to perform rituals for their own sake, and it CERTAINLY isn’t to be “set apart”.

Priesthood is to realize how BLESSED every single person is who comes across our paths, pointing it out and proclaiming “ISN’T THAT AMAZING??? LET’S CELEBRATE THAT S**T!!!!

Thinking about Roe v Wade

I don’t like the idea of abortion. I never have. The fact that a brand new human DNA sequence that never existed before in the universe coming into existence at conception has always driven this dislike. Is it a human being worthy of protection under the law? Should it be illegal to terminate this being/potential being? If so, when does that protection begin? Are people guilty of murder for procuring an abortion? Is doctor who performs it guilty of murder? Is the person who drives them to the clinic an accessory to murder? I believed all these to be proper moral thought. And I have been a pro-life proponent in the past, advocating Cardinal Bernadin’s “seamless garment”/consistent life ethic; abortion being part of a tapestry of violence including war, the death penalty, torture, abject poverty, racism, etc.. I still believe these things.

But none of MY moral conundrum or ethical philosophizing matters.

I will never, ever be pregnant. 

I do not know what pregnant folks have to go through when they contemplate abortion:

Will my partner stand with me or leave me, whether I choose to abort or not?

Will my family/friends/community shun me?

Will I be able to stay in school?

Will I be able to get a job?

Will I be able to financially support this/another child?

What if the pregnancy is the result of rape, whether with an abusive partner or another attacker?

Will my pregnancy interfere with my current career?

How will pregnancy and/or birth affect my physical health, as opposed to abortion?

How will pregnancy and/or birth affect my mental health, as opposed to abortion?

Is this an ectopic pregnancy?

DO I WANT THIS PREGNANCY TO CONTINUE INSIDE MY BODY???

These and I am sure scores other life-altering questions are ones I will never be faced with, simply because I don’t have a uterus. It doesn’t matter a lick that I think I would “be there” for my partner through any/all of these scenarios; many don’t have that support. And as a white man in a fairly affluent area with access to many resources, it would be arrogant for me to address the misogynistic/racial/poverty implications many pregnant folks are forced to face, so I am not going to do that.

We as a species haven’t even learned to care for one another; the BORN people right in front of us that challenge us, irritate us, love us, enrage us. It is easy to advocate for the unborn; they make no demands on us, they cost us not a penny, they have no history face or name, and once they’re born, the job is done. On to the next pregnant person.  Where are these advocates once the unborn becomes the born? Where are the food programs, the education programs, the social programs, the job guarantees? Thoughts and Prayers…

That’s not pro-life.

That’s pro-birth.

I struggle with this. But I will never ever be pregnant. 

Sermon: Third Sunday of Easter

 
I love Simon Peter.

There are 2 options for the reading of today’s Gospel, one which ends at the 14^th verse at breakfast and the other which includes Jesus’s one on one conversation with Peter. Peter’s response to Jesus throughout the Gospels always hits close to home for me, so I chose the latter.

How eager and impulsive is Simon Peter when in the presence of his Master! We have heard this story before in the Gospels; He and the disciples has been out on the water fishing all night with no luck. Jesus appears on the shore and gives them instructions on where to place the nets… and as before, they are not able to pull the nets in the boat because they are so full. The beloved disciple recognizes Jesus, gives Peter a nudge… and then Peter does a most Peter-ly thing; jumps out of the boat to swim to him because he simply cannot get to Him fast enough (at least he didn’t try to walk on the water again!). They sit and have breakfast in a most familiar way recognizing their lord in the breaking of the bread.

Jesus then takes Simon Peter aside and asks if he loves Him. Then he asks again. And then again.  Three times, Simon Peter assents that he does indeed love Him – maybe getting a bit annoyed with his Master the 3^rd time. I have always seen this almost as a sacramental confession, a mirror, for the three times Peter denied Him during the Passion preparing him for his ministry as a leader of the fledgling Church. Imagine being Peter, swimming in a sea of confusion and emotion and guilt and pain the last few weeks. His Master whom he loved above all things was executed in a most exquisitely brutal fashion, partially because he didn’t stand up for Him. Now, impossibly and wonderfully, He is back. But now Jesus keeps asking whether he loves Him. Peter needed Jesus’s love and forgiveness at that moment as we all do when we fall away. As is stated in the Gospel, for Peter the distress is real!

What a different Peter we see in the first reading from Acts!

Peter and the apostles are brought before the Sanhedrin for preaching in the name of Jesus; we hear another echo of the Passion narrative back to Jesus being brought before Caiaphas. Then, Peter lingered behind the company of Temple guards who had taken Jesus, and stayed well outside of the Sanhedrin’s sight as he waited to see the fate of his Master. He was recognized as a follower of Jesus anyway, and fell away in fear. He fell three times. And we see in today’s gospel, Jesus lifts him up 3 times.

DO YOU LOVE ME, SIMON PETER? THEN FEED MY LAMBS.

DO YOU LOVE ME, SIMON PETER? THEN TEND MY SHEEP.

DO YOU LOVE ME, SIMON PETER? THEN FEED MY SHEEP.

Now we see Peter, in full sight of the Sanhedrin, steadfastly refusing their strict orders to stop teaching in the name of the Risen Jesus. “We obey God rather than men. God exalted Jesus and we are witness to these things. NO, we ain’t gonna stop.” The Sanhedrin releases him along with the rest of the Apostles, still demanding they cease and desist, though now toothless.  Instead of denying the Lordship of Christ directly in the face of persecution, Peter and the rest of the Apostles REJOICE in the opportunity to being found worthy to be His disciples.

How often are we in Peter and the Apostles’ place? As Christians in the modern world and specifically as Independent Catholic Christians, we can certainly face ridicule for our beliefs. We receive it sometimes from non-Christians and nonbelievers. In my own experience however, we receive it sharpest from other Christians; our own modern Sanhedrin. We don’t follow Christ the proper way, because we state the Eucharist is indeed valid via zoom. We don’t follow Christ the proper way because we ordain women to serve as deacons and priests. We don’t follow Christ the proper way, because we invite ALL to our Table and don’t turn away anyone who feels moved to approach it. We don’t follow Christ the proper way, because we welcome, worship with, and ordain LGBTQ+ folks.

In the words of our Brother Thomas Merton:

“Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy. That is not our business and it is in fact, nobody’s business. What we are asked to do is love. And this love itself will render both us and our neighbors worthy.”

May we always follow the example of Simon Peter, diving off boats, and pledging to die in our love for Christ and each other. Yup we’re going to fall short in the practice of that, time and again. But Jesus will always pull us aside, ask for our love and exhort us to feed his sheep anyway. Once, twice, thrice, seventy times seventy.

Let us be as impulsive and eager as Simon Peter when it comes to following Christ. 

Let’s dive off some boats.

Acts 5:27-32, 40,41
Psalm 30:2,4-6,11-13
Revelation 5:11-14
John 21:1-19

Easter Sunday feels like crap this year...

 Nothing profound to wrote today. 

I feel old. Fat. Disabled. And well past my expiration date.

This is Easter Sunday and the Lenten Darkness is supposed to have dissipated, but for me it hasn't. I remain pulled into my world and myself. I am stuck at home because my wife has covid and I did not get the booster; quarantining from work until Thursday at the order of HR. At the busiest week of the quarter. I have to spend tomorrow
morning trying to get IT on the phone for the VPN hookup. Good luck with that,

My partner continues to convalesce from her heart surgery. I can barely move from here to there without exhaustion. My body hurts head to toe. Eating myself to death. How I am staying sober is beyond me, though I have been going to meetings at every opportunity. I feel depressed, isolated, with the sinking suspicion that this is how I am supposed to be feeling. Existing instead of living. Stuck with no desire or way to move beyond it.

I missed Holy Thursday and Good Friday services; one because of work, the other because of technical difficulties with the remote hookup. I zoomed the Easter Vigil and it was impossible to hear the homily. 

I really don't feel like an Easter person, how a priest is "should" be feeling. It feels like I am stuck waster deep in swamp mud. And I don't like it much at all,

Pacifist? Or coward?

 

As a Franciscan, I often claim the mantel of “pacifist” as part of the package. And I am wondering if that is simply a convenient euphemism for “scared to fight”. I am thinking back throughout my whole life; grade school, high school, college, and adulthood. I have gotten into relatively few fights. Which is not to say I haven’t been beaten up; that was the result on most occasions where actual physical violence wound up taking place.

There was one time in grade school where I saw red during a fight; the other boy was choking at me (I mean REALLY choking me) and I went full-out hulk on him when I got free. I think that incident frightened me; I don’t remember the fight after that. He was choking me, I couldn’t breathe, and I felt my soul ROAR in anger. The next thing I knew the kid was on the ground, begging me to stop.

All other times, I either backed away, ran away, or endured subtle or not-so-subtle bullying for whatever period of time I had to endure it.

My tendency, even in simple verbal arguments, is to attempt to see the other’s point of view, even to the extent of conceding the point, in order to avoid confrontation. I am afraid of violence, real or perceived. I am afraid of pain, both the receiving and the taking. 

Does this make me smart, in the spirit of self-preservation? Or does this make me a coward, unwilling to take a stand on what I believe in to avoid temporary discomfort? Or is it both?

I don’t know. But I ought to examine this in more detail

Right here, right now

Sometimes I just do not want to write, where I have no insightful theology and flowery words with awesome implications Today/this week/this Lent has been one of those times. I find myself exhausted, stripped bare. I do not have the energy for any pretensions anymore. And maybe that is a good thing. Maybe that is what Lent is truly about. I have found myself doing instead of sitting. Serving instead of saying. Acting in concert with prayer instead of praying because that’s what a priest is “supposed” to do.

The Divine wants me stripped bare. Without pretension. Without bells and whistles. Praying because I am moved to pray, not to check a box. Serving others because that is what a human does for their fellow humans, not because of a vague fear of eternal punishment.

Right here. Right now. As much as I loathe that song by Jesus Jones, that's what's echoing in my ears...

There is no other place I want to be.

Spouse of Christ & the Holy Spirit

Ok I need to examine this about myself. 

I seem to have some sort of obsession with habited nuns. No it’s not a fetish or anything; it’s more of a fascination. When I see who they are and what their life is, I WANT that life. They are mystically wed to Jesus Christ. He is their husband and spouse. That kind of love that keeps them enraptured in front of the Blessed Sacrament. the Sisters of Life, the Discalced Carmelite nuns move me so deeply, I listened to a podcast after dropping off James last Friday, and I didn’t want the drive to end because I was enthralled with “Bride of Christ”. Now as a priest, the Church is technically my “bride”. But is it really the same? I believe the Holy Spirit as feminine…is SHE my bride? This mystical marriage thing fascinates me.

Ending Sabbatical

I have been on formal sabbatical from my priesthood since September of last year. And it is finally time to come home.

I felt so much stress from so many areas; work, my mom’s health, my familial relationships, the continuing pandemic, dropping out of chaplaincy courses, my own personal feelings of unworthiness toward my ministerial vocation. One day where I was feeling particularly desperate (a very poor state in which to be making major decisions), I simply texted my bishop, told him my troubles, and asked for sabbatical status. I think it took him by surprise, but honoring my decision, he gave the go-ahead. My family was as surprised as the church.

I entered a time of relative isolation, made easier by the pandemic to be sure and punctuated by my time quarantining with Covid.

I spoke to God.

I spoke to my ancestors.

I cried – a lot.

Finally, mindlessly scrolling through Twitter (ugh I wish I could remember the account) I saw a quote that made me sit up in bed and take notice. I had seen other quotes – hell, hundreds – like it. But this tweet and this particular time snapped me out of my slumber:

“One does not need to be worthy. One only needs to be willing.”

OK. That is something I could build on.

Whether I am a priest or a minister or whatever I am calling myself this week, I can be willing to go where I am led. I know God’s voice in contrast to my own. My feelings of vocational unworthiness can be ignored if I trust in where I am being led and by whom. And I do.

Calling up my bishop and telling him my good news was a bit humbling as well; he directed me to contact each of our church’s clergy and discuss my sabbatical and my experiences with them. While I was wondering why, he read my mind and said, “We are church, Tom. We are community. We get through our joys and trials together. Depend on us, just as we will depend on you.”

Community. Church. Together.

I am in the midst of said calls, and my fellow clergy have been nothing but loving, supportive and welcoming. So much so that I am forced to wonder if wrestling with my angels alone during sabbatical would have even been necessary had I bothered to ”tag” one of our community into the Battle Royale of religious life!

I love the Latin Mass ... and it needs to go

I love the Latin Mass. And it’s better for the Roman Catholic Church that it goes away.

Coming from a non-Roman Catholic priest, this opinion does not really carry much weight, I get that. But after reading through Pope Francis’s Traditionis Custodes which limits the celebration of the Tridentine Mass in the Roman church and his reasoning for it, I thought I would share a few thoughts anyway.

As the blog title suggests, I LOVE the Latin Mass. I have only attended one in my life, but it simply knocked me down with the beauty and reverence. The profound recognition of what was being celebrated and why. The Latin, while I did not understand it, added a mystical quality to the celebration that one seldom finds during Mass in the vernacular. Receiving Communion on the tongue whilst kneeling at the altar rail, a paten under my chin “lest He strike His foot against a stone”, was nothing short of moving.

With all of that said; somehow, some way, the major advocates of the Latin Mass are some of the cruelest, most exclusionary people I have ever had the misfortune to meet, read, and listen to. When Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI liberalized the use of the Latin Mass in Ecclesia Dei and Summorum Pontificum respectively, the idea was to bring the Body of Christ closer together by “giving the people what they want”. Those preferring the vernacular would continue to do so, and those attached to the Latin Mass would have the opportunity to celebrate Mass in their preferred fashion as well.

That’s not what happened unfortunately. The Latin Mass advocates have sneered at the vast majority of the Church celebratingMass in the vernacular/Ordinary form as being nothing more than Protestant. Ironically they protest louder and louder about the invalidity of the Second Vatican Council, emboldened by their newfound freedom. They, lay and clergy alike, wall themselves off in rapidly multiplying Latin Mass societies and began/continued celebrating the old rite exclusively rather than in tandem with the Ordinary Form. Many who had been critical of the Vatican in the past are now louder and openly hostile to it, especially after the less liturgically/more pastorally minded Francis was elected Pope. The traditionalists find more common ground with schismatic groups like The Society of St. Pius X than with the Vatican. 

It simply had the opposite of the intended effect. Instead of closing the gaps, they have widened into chasms.

The backlash from Traditionis Custodes has been harsh from those you’d expect (Cardinal Raymond Burke, Church Militant, Una Voce, etc.). The true fallout remains to be seen.

I will be sad to see the Latin Mass fade away; it is indeed beautiful liturgy. But beauty is not a good enough reason to sustain it. The Church is fractured enough without the Vatican giving further ammunition to those who prefer to isolate and treat others with arrogance and contempt. Instead of embracing others with love.

What are my truths?

 It is about time I cleared several things up about myself, and as a reminder to myself. Here are 10 truths:

1-      My name is Thomas. I am Beloved of God, before all else.

2-      I am a Father of 2 grown men, whom I love dearly and I believed that love is reciprocated. They have taught me more about being a man than I could ever have imagined.

3-      I am a Husband to 2 beautiful women who are the air in my lungs and the beat of my heart. I would gladly give my life for either.

4-      I am a Christian Priest. I serve an Independent Catholic Community and I strive to serve my God as such.

5-      I am an ordained interfaith minister, finding the Divine in all people and all things.

6-      I love to walk with people in their spiritual journeys; it is an absolute joy and thrill for me!

7-      I am an alcoholic and addict in recovery. I cannot use mind altering substances (beyond caffeine) in a safe manner.

8-      I have suffered with MDD (major depressive disorder) and other mental issues for most of my life; each day is a challenge.

9-      I identify as part of the fabled Alphabet Mafia; I fall under “Q” for “Queer/Questioning”.

10-   I struggle with the same apparent contradictions that you see as you read this list.

I’m not sure but I do not believe I have ever put ALL of these things together in one writing. But anyhoo; these are all major facets of who I am. Thank you for coming to my TOM Talk ;)

 

Enemy of God

“Make no mistake: your sins make you an enemy of God.”

I read this blurb in a Catholic book of devotions dedicated to overcoming “sins of impurity”; pornography, chronic masturbation, etc.  It is set up in the spirit of 12-step self-help. After beautiful language about the all-forgiving nature of God and the help Mother Mary can give in this struggle, this sentence jumps off the page.

Let’s be clear; obsessive porn use and masturbation that interferes with actual relationships, employment, and responsibilities IS indeed a problem that needs to be worked through. Hell, you could even call it a sin if that language works for you.

Enemy of God…

The devotionals go on to blame it all on Satan, the terrible guilt we all must feel when we “fall” and the necessity of “being right with God” lest we die in a state of mortal sin.  The all-loving, all-forgiving God apparently has no issue letting His children suffer for all eternity if they do not feel enough sufficient sorrow and apologize in JUST the proper manner and formula (via sacramental confession). Does this sound all loving or all forgiving? This sounds trite, petty, and cruel. At least to me. And it is not any God or Jesus that I personally understand or would give my service unto.

Not that I believe sacramental confession is a bad thing, not at all! If we have done wrong, the confessional brings us the mercy of God in the form of a loving brother/sister. Sometimes we need the face of another to bring us peace and absolution for the things we have done wrong. And we ALL do things wrong. But to suggest that we, as Beloved Children of God, could ever make an enemy of God, just doesn’t ring true in the light of Christ.

At least not to me.

God love you!

Reclaiming "Christian"

I have issues with the word “Christian”.

It is a loaded word, worn like a crown by evangelicals and fundamentalists. It’s used as almost a caste system identifier by the aforementioned groups. Here in the US, Christianity is synonymous (particularly to minority groups) with nationalism, homophobia, racism, antisemitism, islamophobia, sexism, and proud anti-intellectualism. Christianity is a weapon, and carefully hewn chapters and verses out of its Bible and creed are its ammunition.

Love the sinner, hate the sin.

Your lifestyle is an abomination.

I will pray for you.

If you are not saved, you are damned to the eternal lake of fire.

Christianity has become a loathsome parody of itself. Because a portion of its vitriol (love?) had been leveled at the Catholic Church over the years – Catholics are not considered Christians by some sects- I always felt secure in my parish and beliefs that I did not fall into the caste system.

After leaving the Roman Church I accepted an uncomfortable truth.

Many Catholics are just as vitriolic as evangelicals on many topics, particular LGBTQ+ and sexism. The Knights of Columbus (of which I was a member years ago) has lobbied with evangelicals and in many cases provided the lion’s share of financing efforts to deny LGBTQ+ folks the right to legally marry. Believing Catholics are just as “family values” oriented as the most conservative evangelical groups. “Family values” being code for intolerant homophobic families where the women know their place.

But what is a “Christian”, really?

A Christian is a follower of the teachings of Christ. Simple. 

What did Christ teach? What was His message?

His message was to love. 

“Love the Lord with all of your heart and with all of your soul and with all of your mind. This is the greatest commandment. The second is like it, you shall love your neighbor as yourself” – Matthew 22:38-39

Love God. Love your neighbor. Love yourself. There are no qualifiers, no worthiness test for this love, no loving this neighbor but not that neighbor. We are to love. Jesus loved radically, giving his life for his friends.

In His Resurrection, Jesus "forever ruptured everything that human beings understand about life and death." *

Perhaps it is time that the word Christian is reclaimed by the followers of Christ who follow his radical teaching to Love… without qualifiers. Christians who don’t stop to wonder is a person deserves or is worthy of love.

Because we all are.

I am a Christian.

Still going to take some getting used to…

* quoted from QUEER VIRTUE by Reverend Elizabeth M. Edman, paraphrasing Right Reverend Jeffrey D. Lee

Knowing what God wants of me.

That's a scary feeling. It's certainly scary thing to write.  Without going into much detail, the table is set before me. I am to serve. I am to comfort. I am to walk with those who feel broken. And anyone else who comes along; I no longer have the luxury of choosing whom to serve. 

Lord God, I am Your priest, Your hands in the world. Let me do nothing apart from Your will. 

Love,

Thomas