Divorced Catholics

27th Sunday of the Year-October 5

Title: The Divorced Catholic

Purpose: (1) to examine the status of a divorced Catholic (as contrasted to a divorced/remarried Catholic); (2) to give guidance and encouragement to divorced Catholics (and also to the divorced/remarried).

n There is a wonderfully moving scene in the movie A Man for All Seasons, about the English martyr Thomas More. His wife and his daughter Margaret have been allowed to see him, but Margaret has promised that she would use her influence to persuade her father to take the oath required by the king. More, of course, refuses to do this because the oath recognizes Henry VIII as Head of the Church. Margaret, frustrated, argues that an oath is mere words, that he could say one thing with his lips but mean another within. And gently More explains to her that when a man takes an oath, it is as though he takes himself in his own hands like a bit of water scooped up from a river; if he opens his fingers, he need not expect to find himself again.

One of the things which makes modern life so difficult is that there are so many important things which we have forgotten, or half-forgotten. Occasionally, as in this scene, we stumble upon them, and there is the faint shock of recognition-This is true! And it is important-but we've forgotten it. The taking of an oath, or of a vow, was once regarded with the deepest solemnity. Often it was done in the most sacred place, before the Altar, or upon the Book of the Gospels. The Name of God was invoked; he and his saints and angels were to be witnesses of the covenant being made.

And ever thereafter the person who had made the vow was changed. He was no longer the same, for he had committed himself profoundly to something. That vow became part of him, something which remained with him.

So, for example, one day about eleven years ago I knelt down before the Altar and made the solemn promises which bound me to the priesthood for ever. Now, there is quite literally nothing I can do about that. I could, of course, take off these vestments, stride out of here right now and go off and open up a bowling alley somewhere, but I'd be a renegade priest running a bowling alley. And one day I would still have to answer to God for the use I made of the great grace of Holy Orders. Quite literally, the grace of Holy Orders, what we call the sacred character of the priesthood, is there, an indelible part of my being which I can never be rid of.

Now, although certainly our sense of this has eroded greatly in these troubled times, marriage is that kind of reality too. A couple who have validly exchanged the vows of matrimony and have consummated their vows have a bond between them. It is a spiritual bond, and I'm afraid that nowadays, without even realizing it, we think of "spiritual" as meaning somehow "unreal," or at least less real, because we can't rap our knuckles on it. But this is simply not true-that bond is all the more real for its being spiritual. When the Church insists upon the indissolubility of that bond, she is simply taking seriously the words of the vow: for better, for worse . . . until death do us part. Unlike the priesthood, matrimony is not forever-the bond ceases with the death of one of the spouses (which is why widows can remarry). But while both spouses live, that bond endures.

Contemporary life has eroded our sense of the sacredness of the marriage bond. I recall vividly how stunned I was in 1983 while teaching an eighth grade religion class about marriage, and I discovered that the very idea of the indissolubility of marriage was not only strange to the students, but struck them as undesirable-why should anyone have to be tied to anyone else for life? This is a terribly sad impoverishment of our understanding of what life should be about, but it permeates our society and our children absorb it even before they realize it.

That having been said, however, there is another big problem in our day which one comes across among Catholics constantly-ABYSMAL ignorance of the Faith. This is bad enough when it affects oneself, but if one gives misleading advice to others one takes upon oneself very grave responsibility. A couple of years ago a lady came up to me very shaken, and asked if divorced Catholics could receive Communion. Certainly, I replied, but she persisted, "My sister told me that since my divorce I cannot receive Communion." And she told me she had not received Communion for years.

What a grave responsibility before God that woman's sister has! She spoke out of her ignorance and misled her sister. Divorce does not change a Catholic's status in the Church. Now, obviously, marriage is a sacred bond and one would be sinning if one were to obtain a divorce frivolously, but people generally do not do that. In some cases divorce is a tragic necessity, a civil arrangement required by justice for the separation of property and the protection of the rights of the spouses and children when they can no longer dwell together. The granting by the State of a decree of divorce does not alter the fact that the couple is married in the eyes of God and the Church, and every parish has good people in it who are trying to live holy lives, faithful to marriage vows they made years before, even though ultimately they were separated from spouses by divorce. It is a sad reality, and Catholics in that situation need the support of other Christians. And certainly they need the grace of the sacraments, for they will have to live out their married vocation in the difficult circumstances of divorce.

Sometimes the sorrow of divorce is a sign that there was something radically wrong with the marriage from the beginning, and after prayer and reflection a divorced Catholic may decide to seek the advice of the Marriage Tribunal about the possibility of an annulment. As you know, an annulment does not end a marriage; it is a declaration by the Church after careful investigation that there was never a valid marriage between the two because some necessary element of a valid marriage was missing. It has no effect whatsoever on the children of that marriage; it simply means that as far as the Church is concerned, these former spouses were never truly married and are free to marry. If you are wise, you will realize that there is a tremendous amount of misinformation circling about regarding annulments. Don't listen to your Uncle Charlie at the clam bake when he tells you that they take ten years and cost ten thousand dollars; just smile, nod, get the poor old thing another drink and make a mental note to call your parish priest for accurate information if you need it! I could write a book filled with all of the nonsense I've heard on this subject.

I want to speak very clearly and carefully about another group in the Church, because there is something here we all need to understand.

There are many Catholics who are divorced and remarried outside of the Church. They are part of the Church, and need the care and concern of the Church as much as anyone else. I have known parishioners who had married outside of the Church years before, and their faith had quickened over the years and they found themselves trying to be as fully involved in the Church's life as they could be, even though they could not receive Communion. I have also known parishioners who felt that their decision to marry outside of the Church had been forced upon them by circumstances and that they had tried to do the best they could.

I hope that everyone in our parish who finds himself or herself in such a situation will take the opportunity to sit down with one of our priests. It's important that we get to know you, so that we know if we can be of help. It's most important that you be assured of the presence of the grace of God working in your life, and that if you feel caught in circumstances you can't change right now, that you persevere in prayer and continue to live the life of the Lord's Church as fully as you can.

His grace comes to meet us where we are, like the father running down the road to greet the Prodigal Son who is on his way home. We all have stood in need of the mercy and grace of God; we all stand in need of that grace today. What he would have us do, brothers and sisters, is stand together, support one another, and celebrate together the wondrous gift of his love.

Suggested readings: Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1650-51, 2383, 2384-86.

Following Jesus

28th Sunday of the Year-October 12

"B" Readings: Wis. 7:7-11 Heb. 4:12-13 Mark 10:17-30

Title: Celibacy and Vowed Chastity

Purpose: (1) to present the Gospel and traditional Catholic teaching on celibacy not as abstention so much as a sign of God's reality in this life and the next; (2) to show the spiritual value of celibacy; (3) its value to the Church.

Suppose for a moment that you met your friend Charlie on the sidewalk. You had not seen Charlie for many months, not since his wedding, so you ask him, "Well, Charlie, how is married life?"

What if Charlie were to say, "Well, it's going okay, I guess. I mean, it's a lot of responsibility. I have to save more carefully now, and I have mortgage payments as well as the car, and life insurance in case something happens to me. And down the road there will be kids so I need to worry about school tuition and even college. And they might have health problems, so the health insurance is real important too. . . .

What would you say first-Poor Charlie? Or, Poor Charlie's wife?

There's no doubt about it, those responsibilities are all part of married life, but one has to think that Charlie has lost a bit of perspective here. There's a reason for those sacrifices, and the reason is supposed to be so important to the spouse that the sacrifices are well worth it. As the old ritual for marriage noted, Sacrifice is not easy, but love makes all things easy, and perfect love makes sacrifice a joy. One enters willingly into those sacrifices for the sake of one's beloved, and later for the children, and ideally the spouses help one another.

We would think it sad if Charlie described his new marriage in such negative terms, yet so many people, even Christians, do not think twice about regarding celibacy and vowed chastity in terms of the negative. "Look at what they give up," seems to be the thought of many as they think of the life of a priest or religious; "I could never do that." Studies seem to indicate that celibacy is a factor in the unwillingness of many young men to offer themselves to the service of the Church as priests. Certainly this is understandable, but, as I hope I have shown with the illustration of poor Charlie, any vocation, any state of life seen just in terms of the negatives and the "give-ups" can't really be understood at all.

Celibacy is a tremendously important gift in the Church. Embraced and lived properly, it is a sermon in itself. There is one truth which we are all prone to forget-Here we have no lasting city, as St. Paul said. We are just passing through on pilgrimage, and that pilgrimage has a goal. The believer who embraces celibacy preaches a dramatic sermon, for he points to the reality of the Kingdom of God. If he lives that celibacy joyfully and generously, he makes of his whole life a sermon which speaks of the joy of the life of grace. In our sex-saturated consumer society this is a witness we desperately need, and often it does not go unnoticed.

This is not to say that the same is not true of marriage. On the contrary, nothing does more good in the life of the Church than the witness of a committed married couple living the Gospel, finding in their Catholic faith a joyful, enriching way of life. Their family lives point to the Kingdom just as truly as do the lives of priests and religious, and they reach many people by their example who would be utterly unimpressed by anything a priest or religious might say. (He has to talk that way. He is a priest.) Certainly there is more than one way of answering the invitation Jesus extends in today's Gospel. The witness of priests and religious, the witness of committed lay celibates, and the joyful embrace of Christian married life by husbands and wives join together as a harmonious symphony offered by the Church to all humanity as a witness of the primacy of the Kingdom of God in this world.

It would be hard to overestimate the value of celibacy in our Church's life. Consider, for example, how impoverished learning and civilization would be if there had not been, over a thousand years ago, communities of Christians gathered in communities seeking Gospel perfection and, by the way, preserving learning-the monasteries. How many far-flung places throughout the world are the sites of flourishing Catholic communities because the celibate commitment left missionaries free to spread the Word to the farthest corners? Think about how different our Church would be if we had not for so many decades had the services of the religious sisters and brothers who staffed our schools and imparted the Faith to the young, and our hospitals and old age homes, witnessing to the importance of the compassionate care of the needy.

These are examples of how the celibate commitment has strengthened the active works of the Church-but think of the very heart of the Church, the spirituality which is the heart of the works which are its overflowing! How much richer our Catholic tradition of spirituality is because of the common life of groups who have left us the inheritance of their schools of spirituality, the Benedictines, Cistercians, Carmelites, Jesuits, and so many others. How many fervent Catholics have benefited from retreat houses and centers of prayer, from Missions and books which were the fruit of the ministry of religious communities. How many Religious Orders have served the broader Church as spiritual resources even in hidden ways as, for example, the many who tried their vocations but left discerning another call, yet brought with them to enrich parish and family life the training, the insights on prayer, the spiritual discipline they had gotten in the novitiate.

The Lord once summed up his ministry, as it were, in a nutshell, "I came that you might have life, and have it to the full." As Christians, we're called to see that fullness of life marked out for us in the Gospel, even though it may seem hard. There is not a single one of us, I am sure, who has not imagined what it might be like to be there at the Last Supper, to be at the Sermon on the Mount, to watch the multiplication of the loaves and fishes.

But imagine what it would be like to experience the invitation of the Lord which the young man heard in today's Gospel. We know that it is the greatest privilege a human being can receive-the invitation to become a close follower of Jesus of Nazareth. We know that the invitation if accepted will lead to the great privilege for that young man of his actually being part of the events we would so love to have witnessed-to see Lazarus raised from the dead, to recline at the table of the Last Supper. You and I know this-but in the Gospel of the day we see the young man's face fall. He turns away sad and walks away-for he has many possessions.

Today, two thousand years later, where are those possessions? They were swept away so long ago that no one even remembers what they were. Certainly it seems the rich young man was offering himself to Jesus as a wealthy benefactor; as such he would have been useful in the new movement. Yes, he was interested in offering himself to Jesus, but only on his own terms, not on those of the Lord. And he did not really want to follow Jesus-at least, not as much as he wanted to hold onto all of his stuff.

And the irony is that the rich young man has long since had to let go of all of his stuff anyway. That conversation took place in perhaps 32 A.D., and it is now 1997, and it was long ago that it was time for him, whether or not he was ready, to put away the toys that kept him from accepting the invitation of Jesus. The young man died almost two thousand years ago, and he could not take it all with him.

He is a good reminder of the fact that we all need signs of the primacy of the Kingdom in our lives! Whether priest or religious, celibate or married, I need to be attentive to those who are signs of the Kingdom for me, and I certainly must live as a sign of the Kingdom for others. I must never be discouraged if my witness seems not as effective as I had hoped-after all, the rich young man was first intrigued and drawn to Jesus as his sign of the Kingdom, and yet he walked away sad. If that happened to Jesus, what do you or I expect? I must imitate the Lord, and persevere. I must live in such a way that all around me understand that I'm saying, Here, we have no lasting city. And, believe me, that is GOOD NEWS!

Suggested readings: Catechism of the Catholic Church, 922-27, 1579-80.

Room for mystery

29th Sunday of the Year-October 19

"B" Readings: Isa. 53:10-11 Heb. 4:14-16 Mark 10:35-45

Title: The Existence of God

Purpose: to show why most scientific and thinking people believe in the existence of God and are not atheists or agnostics.

Every once in a while one will read of an exciting discovery-perhaps some explorers scrambling into a long-hidden cave who suddenly by the flickering light of their lamps glimpse traces and forms on the wall of the cave and realize with a thrill: Man has been here. They know immediately that it is so, for they see his handiwork. "Art is the signature of man," it has been said. Where we see it, we know he has been.

In a similar way, some of the most profound minds of the ages have believed that they detected a far greater signature in the book of nature. There is a story about the young Albert Einstein, driving himself haggard with research and work. There were times when friends tried to slow him down. "Why do you drive yourself so," one of them asked him, to which he shrugged and replied, "I'm trying to find the old Man!"

Many have found in the order we perceive in the universe one of the strongest arguments for the existence of God. It seems evident to them that created things were put together by design.

In recent decades the march of science has amazed us all. There was a time when it seemed conceivable that all of our questions would finally be answered and there would remain no mysteries at all-yet the further our exploration of knowledge takes us, the more questions seem to arise and the further away the horizon seems to recede. Everything we uncover seems to give rise to new questions, new mysteries, yet all the while we become increasingly knowledgeable about the wonderful pattern of creation.

The believing scientist is a person who knows that scientific knowledge has, and always will have its limits. The further the complexity of the universe is known, the deeper the mystery becomes-and the clearer it is that the refusal to believe is itself a belief, indeed a prejudice. Today we can look through an electron microscope and see things the existence of which was undreamed of a century ago, and we are convinced that there are many as yet undiscovered surprises out there awaiting our discovery. Is it reasonable, then, to utterly deny the existence of God, as though we had indeed explored all of reality to its outer limits and it has no secrets left for us?

The reflective person looks within as well, and finds reason to believe in God. From where, after all, comes the impulse to fashion the art to which we referred before as the signature of man? What is this mysterious, spiritual side of our nature, and from where does it arise if we are merely the product of evolutionary development? How to explain the Gothic cathedral, the Mozart concerto, the effort to enter into and understand existence which is philosophy, or literature? What is the source of our capacity to create art-and what is the source of our desire to do so?

And what about our capacity to love, and to be loved?

In all of these things, thoughtful people through the ages have seen indications, or perhaps better, intimations, of an Ultimate Reality. The spiritual side of man's nature seems inexplicable to them solely in terms of molecules and nature. It seems quite reasonable to believe that just as there is a spiritual aspect to man quite beyond our powers of explanation, so there is a reality animating the universe which is beyond our power to grasp.

The Australian novelist Patrick White is a popular author. His works tend to be darkly pessimistic. He lives on a ranch Down Under, and much of his time is taken up with tasks outdoors. He recounts his experience one day as a storm erupted, torrents of rain poured down and he ran to the sheep pen to lead them to safety, for sheep are very stupid and need all of the help they can get. And while he is trying to get control of the herd, and they are jostling about in the confusion, he slips and falls in the mud and muck and excrement, and bellows out, "O GOD!"

And later on he reflected on that, and he had to admit to himself that it had been more than just an impatient exclamation. I don't believe, I keep saying to myself, he thought; yet when things are not going well and some disaster happens, deep down inside I really do believe that there is supposed to be a logic and an order, I guess I do believe that something is there. And I cry out for that order to be restored.

Is it reasonable on the one hand to require an ironclad compelling proof before admitting the existence of God or at least its possibility, yet on the other hand to stubbornly maintain the reasonableness of atheism even though its premise cannot be proven either? As the unbeliever scoffs at the believer who affirms his faith in God's existence, the unbeliever is in a peculiarly vulnerable logical position. All the believer need do is turn to him and say, "You're quite sure God does not exist-prove it. Otherwise your position rests on faith just as surely as mine."

There is a well-known story of two travelers on a French train. One was an elderly man quietly saying his rosary as he looked out the window; the other a young university student with the scornful attitude towards the Faith so characteristic of nineteenth century freethinkers. Before long the younger man was challenging the elder, asserting that science had exploded the myths of religion; "Tell me of this science," the old man said quietly. Something about his bearing unnerved the younger man, undermined his confidence; but how great must his mortification have been upon their parting, as he found himself staring at the elder man's visiting card-at the name of Louis Pasteur.

The humble man is well aware of his own limitations; a humble people will be aware of the limitations of their own knowledge, and will leave a bit of room in their universe-for Mystery. The signs which point to it are all there. It is folly to disregard them.

Suggested readings: Catechism of the Catholic Church, 27-38.

Sent by Christ

30th Sunday of the Year-October 26

"B" Readings: Jer. 31:7-9 Heb. 5:1-6 Mark 10:46-52

Title: Holy Orders

Purpose: to explain (1) the various ministries and orders which a young man receives on the way to priesthood, and (2) the special importance of ordained priests for the Church.

"The Birthday of the Church." If you recall your days studying catechism as a child, you'll probably remember that we were taught that Pentecost was the Church's birthday. The apostles were in the upper room, locked away, utterly unable to conquer their fear, when suddenly the Holy Spirit comes upon them, they burst through those doors by his power and were unstoppable!

It was certainly a great day in salvation history, but there are other candidates for the title "birthday of the Church" as well. My particular favorite is Easter Sunday, specifically the evening. St. John gives us the wonderful scene when Jesus suddenly appears among the disciples saying, "Peace." They rejoice to see him, and again he says the most wonderful thing. "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me so I send you."

That sentence is, in a sense, the charter of the priesthood, and of the Church's life. The Father had sent Jesus for a purpose, and he had labored faithfully. His ministry was not over yet, nor was it to end on Ascension Day. It was to continue down through the years, down through the ages, continued in the ministry of these eleven men and their successors. What the Father had sent Jesus to do, Jesus was now sending them to do. "Then He breathed on them," St. John tells us, "and said, 'Receive the Holy Spirit.'" At the very beginning of creation, the breath of God, the Spirit of God hovered over the waters of the formless wasteland that was the earth. Now, at the re-creation of the earth, Jesus breathes upon the disciples, upon his infant Church, and imparts the Spirit.

To understand the priesthood, and the place it has in the Church, it is helpful to remember that passage. From that day on, the apostles were the pastors of the Church, our first bishops, shepherding the flock in Christ's Name. They had been given the mandate to "Do this in memory of me," and they celebrated the Eucharist, the "breaking of bread" as the early Church said. He had told them, "Whose sins you forgive, they are forgiven them," and the work of reconciliation continued. He had commanded them to preach the Word to all nations and baptize them, and off they went to the ends of the earth. The Ministry of Christ continued in the ministry of these apostles.

As they started new local churches in different places, they appointed pastors for these local churches. The pattern developed that each of these pastors, who was the bishop of the locality, would govern his church with the advice of a group of elders, in Greek presbyters. Originally all of the Christians of that locality would gather at one Eucharist presided over by the bishop, assisted by his presbyters and with the help of the deacons, who were appointed to help in the administration of the Church and in charitable works. Eventually, as the local church grew too large, the bishop would designate the presbyters to go out and celebrate the Eucharist for those who could not be at the bishop's Mass; the presbyters thus were those to whom we refer as priests.

If you want a picture of the Catholic Church, therefore, just visualize the bishop, presiding at the Eucharist as pastor of the flock surrounded by the priests (the presbyters) who assist him, aided by the deacons, all joining in the liturgy with the holy People of God. Today in her revised liturgy the Church places great emphasis on the various roles of the different ministers of the Church which manifest the richness of the Church's life.

There are three ranks to the Sacrament of Holy Orders: Bishop, Priest and Deacon. Every bishop stands in apostolic succession to the apostles, a succession maintained carefully down through the ages to our own day. Since the Second Vatican Council the order of deacon has been re-emphasized in the Church, and many parishes today have men, single and married, serving who have been ordained to the permanent diaconate. These permanent deacons are fully clergy of the Church just as are priests and the bishop; often they continue their secular employment while serving the Church in their free time.

Besides the three ministries comprising the Sacrament of Holy Orders-the Bishop, Priest and Deacon-there are other ministries in the Church as well. Today the word "ministry" is often used widely and indiscriminately to refer to virtually anything done in the Church, but strictly speaking there are two other ministries in the Catholic Church.

The first is the Ministry of Lector. Everyone is familiar with the parish lectors who proclaim the readings at Mass, but there is actually a formal Ministry of Lector into which a man may be installed by the bishop. During the installation rite the lector is presented with the Lectionary, the book of readings from Scripture which is used at Mass, and in his exhortation the bishop encourages the newly installed lector to ponder the Word of God deeply and allow himself to be formed by it. Henceforth the newly installed lector proclaims the readings as a minister of the Church.

Then there is the Ministry of Acolyte. Here too we are familiar with Mass servers who in parish life fulfill the functions of the acolyte at Mass, but there is a formal Ministry of Acolyte into which a man may be installed by the bishop. The acolyte assists the priest and deacon at the altar, and if needed administers Communion as an extraordinary minister. At his installation into this ministry the bishop gives the new acolyte a vessel containing the bread or wine for the Eucharist, which he will be bringing to the altar at Mass, and encourages him to make his life worthy of the service he will perform at the Lord's Table.

On the road to the priesthood, every seminarian will be installed as a lector, then as an acolyte. His exercise of these ministries will help him prepare for the grace of the priesthood. Another momentous occasion which he will mark along the way is the formal admission to candidacy, whereby the seminarian declares his intention publicly to present himself for ordination, and the bishop publicly accepts this intention. (Formerly this was the rite of tonsure-the bishop cut off part of the hair of the seminarian and received him into the clerical state. Today one becomes a clergyman when one is ordained deacon.)

In due time the candidate is ordained deacon, receiving the Sacrament of Holy Orders for the first time and promising to serve the Church. You'll have noted that there are two kinds of deacons. Permanent Deacons have decided to serve the Church as deacons, while Transitional Deacons intend to be ordained priests. On the day of ordination all deacons promise to serve the Church and to pray the Divine Office, and if the deacon is unmarried he promises celibacy. Married deacons, by the way, all promise that should their spouses die they will remain unmarried. The Ministry of the Deacon includes proclaiming the Holy Gospel at Mass, preaching, administering Baptism and Holy Communion.

Eventually the transitional deacon will kneel before the altar and the bishop will ordain him a priest by the imposition of hands. He will receive the power to offer the Mass, to forgive sins, to anoint the sick. He will be a priest of the Church. The experience he has had in the other ministries through which he has passed will have impressed upon him the importance of the service everyone has to offer the Church, and in his ministry he will be striving to call forth the gifts of each for the service of all. He will never forget the tie which binds him to the bishop who is his Father in God and whose right arm he is in the ministry of the local Church. And his first experience as a priest will be one for which nothing will have prepared him: the truly humbling experience of the gratitude and joy with which the People of God always receive the gift of a new priest.

Suggested readings: Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1536-1600.