Okay, week three of Advent - the time of year when all the priests man up and wear pink!
So, the spot in the garage is clean and empty, I'm making sure it stays that way, the sale is advertised, it's Wednesday, and Canadian Tire opens Thursday at nine. I have to work, so I can't go until lunch. I'm excited to finally fill this space in the garage with the most manly of toys... er, I mean tools, it's almost here... I can smell the oil of the compressor pump, and hear it roar when I plug it. The sale is almost here. I feel like... well like a kid on Christmas morning, who knows he's getting a Nintendo (Christmas, 1989). That's the joy of Advent... Christmas is almost here, and we are about to celebrate the greatest gift, the amazing moment, and the incredible sacrifices. Even if we aren't believers, we are celebrating love, which is the greatest thing we have, and most of us take the time to show it through charity, which is so much an expression of love the two are practically synonyms. The joy of waiting is so awesome it makes you wanna dance around like you have to pee.
That feeling is Gaudete Sunday.
*NB - the brevity of today's post is in response to my friend Aibert, who as far as I know may be the only reader, and mentioned that he wished there was a summary of my posts so he had time to read them. Here ya go Aib! Thanks for the feedback.
Thoughts on matters of faith, education, and whatever else sparks my interest.
Tuesday, 17 December 2013
Tuesday, 10 December 2013
Advent week 2
Alright, so last week I committed myself to an awkward (embrace the awkward!) comparison of advent to the purchase of the manliest of garage tools, an air compressor. So, here we are, week 2, and it's time to continue milking this one for all it's worth.
Last week I wrote about needing to do a little purge of the junk in the garage to make room for the compressor, and compared it to purging our conscience through reconciliation at the beginning of advent (I'm not gonna lie, I kept the pickaxe... WHO WOULDN'T!). Now I have this beautiful space in my workshop, ready for the compressor to come in and fill it. Here's the problem, empty space gets filled fast. I'll give you an example. I cleaned off the workbench to be able to tune some skis. It was so nice and clean, and empty. Within 20 minutes, I swear it was messier than before. Tools, clothes, food, an old sink I found in the alley, some empty brass from my rifle... you name it, it was on the bench, cluttering my formerly, and gloriously clean space.
I can't speak for everyone, but that is kind of a theme for my life, space is never left empty. Free time? New hobby. Clean shelf? New toy. Clean space in the garage? New clutter! I think it's common enough that we fill our empty space.
This is a bit of a problem, but an even bigger opportunity after receiving the sacrament of reconciliation. After we purge all the garbage from our hearts, we have an empty space. The challenge is that there is no shortage of stuff that we can fill it with. The opportunity is that we can fill it with something awesome. It's not good enough to just clear that space out, we need to make sure it stays that way, as best we can. We need to fill the space with something that will hold it open for us, to allow God's grace to fully occupy it, and prevent the clutter of sin. I know for me, that thing is prayer. Advent is a time for increased prayer, to invite God into our lives. It's something I'm admittedly bad at doing regularly. My relationship with prayer is a lot like my relationship with the gym. I want to go, I want the benefits, I have good intentions, I feel good when I do it, but for some reason I don't make it as often as I should. Advent has a nice reminder built in though. The advent wreath is a daily reminder of the season, and a call to fill that empty space with prayer, in preparation for the celebration of Christmas.
So, what are you filling your nice, clean, empty space with?
Last week I wrote about needing to do a little purge of the junk in the garage to make room for the compressor, and compared it to purging our conscience through reconciliation at the beginning of advent (I'm not gonna lie, I kept the pickaxe... WHO WOULDN'T!). Now I have this beautiful space in my workshop, ready for the compressor to come in and fill it. Here's the problem, empty space gets filled fast. I'll give you an example. I cleaned off the workbench to be able to tune some skis. It was so nice and clean, and empty. Within 20 minutes, I swear it was messier than before. Tools, clothes, food, an old sink I found in the alley, some empty brass from my rifle... you name it, it was on the bench, cluttering my formerly, and gloriously clean space.
I can't speak for everyone, but that is kind of a theme for my life, space is never left empty. Free time? New hobby. Clean shelf? New toy. Clean space in the garage? New clutter! I think it's common enough that we fill our empty space.
This is a bit of a problem, but an even bigger opportunity after receiving the sacrament of reconciliation. After we purge all the garbage from our hearts, we have an empty space. The challenge is that there is no shortage of stuff that we can fill it with. The opportunity is that we can fill it with something awesome. It's not good enough to just clear that space out, we need to make sure it stays that way, as best we can. We need to fill the space with something that will hold it open for us, to allow God's grace to fully occupy it, and prevent the clutter of sin. I know for me, that thing is prayer. Advent is a time for increased prayer, to invite God into our lives. It's something I'm admittedly bad at doing regularly. My relationship with prayer is a lot like my relationship with the gym. I want to go, I want the benefits, I have good intentions, I feel good when I do it, but for some reason I don't make it as often as I should. Advent has a nice reminder built in though. The advent wreath is a daily reminder of the season, and a call to fill that empty space with prayer, in preparation for the celebration of Christmas.
So, what are you filling your nice, clean, empty space with?
Monday, 2 December 2013
The advent compressor
Okay, it seems kind of wrong to have a Catholic blog, and not have some advent postings. The trouble is, what else does someone say? Colm has a good one up:
http://projectym.com/blog/dinosaurs-tinkerbell-jesus/
Swords of truth has a Homily on the First week of advent:
http://swordsoftruth.com/2013/11/30/joy-in-everyday-apocalypses-homily-by-fr-nathan/
Let's face it, most blogs will cover it, and it's hard to say things that aren't already said. I mean, Advent, get ready for Christmas, go to confession, prepare your heart, be charitable... check, check, check, and check.
So, in that light, I am making what has to be one of the most contrived literary stretches in modern history: How advent is like buying an air compressor.
I recently bought an air compressor. I don't know why, it was on sale and I got a great deal... there is something about an air compressor that makes every guy with a garage want one, maybe it's the tools that make that cool sound, maybe it's goofing around with it, maybe it's the satisfaction of using it to blow the dust off the work bench, maybe it's feeling like a badass with a nail gun. Who knows.
Now, in this analogy, the arrival of the compressor will represent the coming of Christ. No seriously, stop laughing. See the thing is, I have no room in the garage for one (it's an 8 gallon puppy, so it takes up some space). Between motorcycle jacks (I don't have a motorcycle anymore), old boat hulls, a bag of almost kind of dirt you can imagine (they make a lot of kinds of dirt) flower pots, a sink I found in the alley, and a lot of other strange and wonderful things, there just isn't room.
Our lives are like that, we pick up 'junk' (I swear honey, it's not junk, I use that stuff all the time!), and fill the empty spaces in our lives with it. If we don't prepare for an important arrival, there isn't a place for it to fit. So for the first week of advent, it's time to 'purge' the garage. In getting ready to buy the compressor (okay, so I got it and it was living in the back of the car), I had to do some purging. It involved going through all the 'junk', and finding the things I didn't use, didn't need, had too much of, or were plain old garbage. It's an amazingly refreshing experience sorting through old stuff, and purging the crap. It really does feel great. I get to look at old hardware store purchases and leftover packaging, feel embarrassed that I spent money on something totally unnecessary (At the time the pickaxe seemed really useful), then get rid of it either by throwing away/recycling the garbage, or passing it on to someone who can actually use it.
For the first week of advent we need to do a personal purge. I'm stoked that our diocese is offering reconciliation every Wednesday for advent. An examination of conscience and good confession, as tough as they are, are so refreshing and liberating... they make new room within us to fill with more important things.
There you go, week one nicely wrapped up. Stay tuned for week 2, and dealing with the empty space!
http://projectym.com/blog/dinosaurs-tinkerbell-jesus/
Swords of truth has a Homily on the First week of advent:
http://swordsoftruth.com/2013/11/30/joy-in-everyday-apocalypses-homily-by-fr-nathan/
Let's face it, most blogs will cover it, and it's hard to say things that aren't already said. I mean, Advent, get ready for Christmas, go to confession, prepare your heart, be charitable... check, check, check, and check.
So, in that light, I am making what has to be one of the most contrived literary stretches in modern history: How advent is like buying an air compressor.
I recently bought an air compressor. I don't know why, it was on sale and I got a great deal... there is something about an air compressor that makes every guy with a garage want one, maybe it's the tools that make that cool sound, maybe it's goofing around with it, maybe it's the satisfaction of using it to blow the dust off the work bench, maybe it's feeling like a badass with a nail gun. Who knows.
Now, in this analogy, the arrival of the compressor will represent the coming of Christ. No seriously, stop laughing. See the thing is, I have no room in the garage for one (it's an 8 gallon puppy, so it takes up some space). Between motorcycle jacks (I don't have a motorcycle anymore), old boat hulls, a bag of almost kind of dirt you can imagine (they make a lot of kinds of dirt) flower pots, a sink I found in the alley, and a lot of other strange and wonderful things, there just isn't room.
Our lives are like that, we pick up 'junk' (I swear honey, it's not junk, I use that stuff all the time!), and fill the empty spaces in our lives with it. If we don't prepare for an important arrival, there isn't a place for it to fit. So for the first week of advent, it's time to 'purge' the garage. In getting ready to buy the compressor (okay, so I got it and it was living in the back of the car), I had to do some purging. It involved going through all the 'junk', and finding the things I didn't use, didn't need, had too much of, or were plain old garbage. It's an amazingly refreshing experience sorting through old stuff, and purging the crap. It really does feel great. I get to look at old hardware store purchases and leftover packaging, feel embarrassed that I spent money on something totally unnecessary (At the time the pickaxe seemed really useful), then get rid of it either by throwing away/recycling the garbage, or passing it on to someone who can actually use it.
For the first week of advent we need to do a personal purge. I'm stoked that our diocese is offering reconciliation every Wednesday for advent. An examination of conscience and good confession, as tough as they are, are so refreshing and liberating... they make new room within us to fill with more important things.
There you go, week one nicely wrapped up. Stay tuned for week 2, and dealing with the empty space!
Monday, 18 November 2013
The Digital Catholic
I've had a post sitting in the draft box for a while on memes, in particular snarky ones. I've been sitting on it because I'm not super happy with it, and I don't want this to turn into a laundry list of complaints about things I see on the internet (fighting snarky with critical doesn't seem to work so good). However, Colm Leyne (one of the links over on the right), posted a couple of great thoughts that got my gears turning on it again:
http://colmscommonplace.tumblr.com/post/67189313915/futurechurch
And
http://projectym.com/blog/catholic-jerks-are-just-jerks/
Read them both! They are nice, simple, and awesome.
I still can't get my other post to work for me, but the idea of not being a jerk in our faith, or in general, is one that I hold dearly, and if I were to sum up my thoughts on things like Catholic memes, it's don't be a jerk online. That got me thinking more about digital citizenship (something I studied a bit on over the summer at school) and Catholicism. So, without wasting more words, I present the Gruntled Catholic's guide to Catholic Digital Citizenship
1) When you evangelize online, do it the same way you would in real life.
I'm not cool, I don't pretend or try to be, so I'm not going to try and build a cool online persona. I'm not going to 'take it to the streets' (see, not cool) with my Facebook profile. I don't go door to door asking people if they've found Christ, so I'm not going to spam Facebook with nonstop posts in the hopes my non-Catholic friends read them and suddenly see the light.
I do tend to straddle a handful of different worlds and am often in fairly in depth conversations with people I'm close to, so I'm going to do that online where I have the opportunity to, and try to raise the level of online discourse. I'm a decent writer, at least from an academic point of view, a strong systemic thinker, and in general, a big picture guy, so I'm writing a blog where I can do that. I'm a musician, so I'm going to share music and thoughts on music. Most of all, I want my faith to be about joy in the real world, so I'm going to try and be joyful online whenever I can (I didn't say I'm good at it, just that it's important to me). Find the way to take your own self, and build that online so you are true to yourself
2) You only have one self. Make sure it's the same person online and offline
I like wandering in comment forums, and there's a phenomenon out there called being a keyboard commando. People tend to feel power when they write from behind a username, or profile. They can get preachy, definite, aggressive, and black and white about everything. I can count the number of people I know in real life who are like that on two hands, but online they are everywhere (myself included sometimes). If it's not okay to be snarky, condescending, judgmental, or insulting in person, why do we think it's okay online, especially with our faith (see articles re: don't be a jerk). When we disagree in person, we can do it respectfully, and without resorting to ad hominem attacks or using sarcastic humour to try and humiliate the ones we disagree with, so why do we think it's okay to fire personal attacks or post sarcastic memes about people and ideas when we disagree online? Ask yourself this: If I were to do/say this in real life, to someone I loved, would I be confessing it later? If the answer is yes, then why would you do it online?
3) You can't leverage relationships you don't have
It's easy to burn bridges online. It's easy to confuse a Facebook 'friend' with a real one, and cross lines we wouldn't in real life. I've alienated people online by treating them poorly, in a way only a close friend would usually forgive. It's powerfully easy to wreck a distant relationship online with a few wrong words. However, because of the vast amount of things we share online, it's also a tremendously powerful relationship building too. Before social networking was even a thing, I built a very strong connection to a friend in Texas I'd never actually met in person (linked through a common friend in Calgary). The conversations we had via email brought us close, and we leaned on each other through some tough times. With social media, the ability to do that has increased tenfold. We know how important it is to build relationships when we want to share the Love of Christ, so we owe it ourselves and our faith to be careful, active, and faithful to building strong relationships in the online world.
4) Be a truth seeker
This one might be a pet peeve of mine, but I have trouble seeing how we can be seen as people who possess the Truth when we can't get our facts straight. I cringe every time I see a Catholic friend post something that is anti-science, or ignorant of science, spread an internet rumor, or even share a 'Costco is going to give you $450' post on Facebook without fact checking first. I decided to stop being the fact police online a while ago, because it wasn't exactly uplifting or productive, but seriously, if we are the people who constantly evangelize for a super-vitamin or new diet that will cure everything, posts links to debunked studies that are anti-vaccination, tie ideas we don't agree with or understand to left wing (or right wing, although I don't see that as much) political conspiracies, or share everything that looks like a chain letter, then it's hard to give much weight to anything else we say. Catholics have a responsibility to be critical thinkers, to use things like the scientific method to expand our knowledge, to know the spirit and letter of the laws of our faith, to trust true expertise, and to seek out dissenting voices to our own thoughts, so that we can reflect on them, grow our faith and wisdom, and the faith and wisdom of others. Otherwise, if we are 'those people' online (as described above), we are violating the first three things, and not really accomplishing much more than increasing division.
5) Be a creative generator
The internet is a true marvel of technology. When you stop to think that we literally have almost the entirety of human knowledge and creativity at our fingertips, on demand, for almost free, it's mind blowing. There is so much amazing stuff on the internet, like this, or this (or anything else by ZeFrank, sad dog diary will make you laugh out loud!), or this!
So much of the internet is amazing and amusing (every above could probably take you on a multi-hour journey to some branch of the internet you haven't climbed yet) that it's easy to be a consumer. But we are all so gifted by God, and we are called to share and grow our talents. The internet has so much awesome culture, and somewhere between 1/6 and 1/7 of the world is Catholic. We should be contributing a massive amount of awesome to the internet, whether it's academic and wordy (yay me!), artistic and creative, critical and constructive, or just plain fun and funny. Life is too precious, and your gifts are too awesome to waste too much time and wall space on platitudes and sharing what other people have done (some is good, don't get me wrong). Share your work on your wall, share your gifts with the internet.
6) If your faith makes you joyful, tell it to your digital face
I met a nun once who gave me that quip about vocations. She was addressing the seemingly dour or angry image that a lot of religious have, but I think it's true about our faith all the time. I don't mean falsely cheerful, I mean genuinely joyful. Watch this or this and tell me it doesn't make you smile even a little. We want to be around joyful people, and with the reach of the internet there is so much opportunity to share joy. Hillaire Belloc said "Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine,there’s always laughter and good red wine. At least I’ve always found it so. Benedicamus Domino!" I know I would rather be part of the Church that Belloc describes, than one who's members favor snarky memes over dancing monks!
http://colmscommonplace.tumblr.com/post/67189313915/futurechurch
And
http://projectym.com/blog/catholic-jerks-are-just-jerks/
Read them both! They are nice, simple, and awesome.
I still can't get my other post to work for me, but the idea of not being a jerk in our faith, or in general, is one that I hold dearly, and if I were to sum up my thoughts on things like Catholic memes, it's don't be a jerk online. That got me thinking more about digital citizenship (something I studied a bit on over the summer at school) and Catholicism. So, without wasting more words, I present the Gruntled Catholic's guide to Catholic Digital Citizenship
1) When you evangelize online, do it the same way you would in real life.
I'm not cool, I don't pretend or try to be, so I'm not going to try and build a cool online persona. I'm not going to 'take it to the streets' (see, not cool) with my Facebook profile. I don't go door to door asking people if they've found Christ, so I'm not going to spam Facebook with nonstop posts in the hopes my non-Catholic friends read them and suddenly see the light.
I do tend to straddle a handful of different worlds and am often in fairly in depth conversations with people I'm close to, so I'm going to do that online where I have the opportunity to, and try to raise the level of online discourse. I'm a decent writer, at least from an academic point of view, a strong systemic thinker, and in general, a big picture guy, so I'm writing a blog where I can do that. I'm a musician, so I'm going to share music and thoughts on music. Most of all, I want my faith to be about joy in the real world, so I'm going to try and be joyful online whenever I can (I didn't say I'm good at it, just that it's important to me). Find the way to take your own self, and build that online so you are true to yourself
2) You only have one self. Make sure it's the same person online and offline
I like wandering in comment forums, and there's a phenomenon out there called being a keyboard commando. People tend to feel power when they write from behind a username, or profile. They can get preachy, definite, aggressive, and black and white about everything. I can count the number of people I know in real life who are like that on two hands, but online they are everywhere (myself included sometimes). If it's not okay to be snarky, condescending, judgmental, or insulting in person, why do we think it's okay online, especially with our faith (see articles re: don't be a jerk). When we disagree in person, we can do it respectfully, and without resorting to ad hominem attacks or using sarcastic humour to try and humiliate the ones we disagree with, so why do we think it's okay to fire personal attacks or post sarcastic memes about people and ideas when we disagree online? Ask yourself this: If I were to do/say this in real life, to someone I loved, would I be confessing it later? If the answer is yes, then why would you do it online?
3) You can't leverage relationships you don't have
It's easy to burn bridges online. It's easy to confuse a Facebook 'friend' with a real one, and cross lines we wouldn't in real life. I've alienated people online by treating them poorly, in a way only a close friend would usually forgive. It's powerfully easy to wreck a distant relationship online with a few wrong words. However, because of the vast amount of things we share online, it's also a tremendously powerful relationship building too. Before social networking was even a thing, I built a very strong connection to a friend in Texas I'd never actually met in person (linked through a common friend in Calgary). The conversations we had via email brought us close, and we leaned on each other through some tough times. With social media, the ability to do that has increased tenfold. We know how important it is to build relationships when we want to share the Love of Christ, so we owe it ourselves and our faith to be careful, active, and faithful to building strong relationships in the online world.
4) Be a truth seeker
This one might be a pet peeve of mine, but I have trouble seeing how we can be seen as people who possess the Truth when we can't get our facts straight. I cringe every time I see a Catholic friend post something that is anti-science, or ignorant of science, spread an internet rumor, or even share a 'Costco is going to give you $450' post on Facebook without fact checking first. I decided to stop being the fact police online a while ago, because it wasn't exactly uplifting or productive, but seriously, if we are the people who constantly evangelize for a super-vitamin or new diet that will cure everything, posts links to debunked studies that are anti-vaccination, tie ideas we don't agree with or understand to left wing (or right wing, although I don't see that as much) political conspiracies, or share everything that looks like a chain letter, then it's hard to give much weight to anything else we say. Catholics have a responsibility to be critical thinkers, to use things like the scientific method to expand our knowledge, to know the spirit and letter of the laws of our faith, to trust true expertise, and to seek out dissenting voices to our own thoughts, so that we can reflect on them, grow our faith and wisdom, and the faith and wisdom of others. Otherwise, if we are 'those people' online (as described above), we are violating the first three things, and not really accomplishing much more than increasing division.
5) Be a creative generator
The internet is a true marvel of technology. When you stop to think that we literally have almost the entirety of human knowledge and creativity at our fingertips, on demand, for almost free, it's mind blowing. There is so much amazing stuff on the internet, like this, or this (or anything else by ZeFrank, sad dog diary will make you laugh out loud!), or this!
So much of the internet is amazing and amusing (every above could probably take you on a multi-hour journey to some branch of the internet you haven't climbed yet) that it's easy to be a consumer. But we are all so gifted by God, and we are called to share and grow our talents. The internet has so much awesome culture, and somewhere between 1/6 and 1/7 of the world is Catholic. We should be contributing a massive amount of awesome to the internet, whether it's academic and wordy (yay me!), artistic and creative, critical and constructive, or just plain fun and funny. Life is too precious, and your gifts are too awesome to waste too much time and wall space on platitudes and sharing what other people have done (some is good, don't get me wrong). Share your work on your wall, share your gifts with the internet.
6) If your faith makes you joyful, tell it to your digital face
I met a nun once who gave me that quip about vocations. She was addressing the seemingly dour or angry image that a lot of religious have, but I think it's true about our faith all the time. I don't mean falsely cheerful, I mean genuinely joyful. Watch this or this and tell me it doesn't make you smile even a little. We want to be around joyful people, and with the reach of the internet there is so much opportunity to share joy. Hillaire Belloc said "Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine,there’s always laughter and good red wine. At least I’ve always found it so. Benedicamus Domino!" I know I would rather be part of the Church that Belloc describes, than one who's members favor snarky memes over dancing monks!
Monday, 11 November 2013
Remember them all
This week celebrity dragon, Brett Wilson, got the online news world all excited by being critical of the white poppy movement. Actually, let me rephrase that, he got a bunch of followers excited by calling anyone who disagreed with him a moronic a**hole, and justified his 'argument' by saying that the white poppy is co-opting a symbol of remembrance for political purposes, and that we can support peace while still honouring veterans. Of course, if you look a little deeper, really Brett Wilson is just so addicted to attention that he was willing to use today as a way to draw attention to himself, but I'm not sure we should expect more from our culture of celebrity. I would like to thank him though, because before this week, I didn't know about the white poppy, and I did a little homework on it because I wanted to know what it actually meant.
The white poppy was created as a symbol back in the 1930's (thus is not a symbol co-opted by modern pacifists), by a women's co-op after WW I. Many of the women were war widows, or lost their sons in the first world war. Many of them were angry, because they were promised their loved ones were fighting a war to end all wars, and were left with broken homes and families. They saw the drive towards more war, and wanted to make a statement. The white poppy was born as a call to peace. Over the years the white poppy also evolved to be a symbol of the sacrifices civilians made, including those who lost their lives either in service to the wars, or as innocent casualties. The white poppy honours the women who sacrificed their health, and sometimes their lives, working in dangerous factories building munitions (read about the 'canary girls' if you want to know what it was like for these women). It honours the children who grew up in homes with no father, or with the fear and trauma that come from the mental and emotional toll the war took on the men who returned home. The white poppy honours the 1.5 million children killed in WWII. It honours the citizens of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, killed in atomic bomb blasts, and those cursed to live with the aftermath of those attacks. The white poppy honours the scientists who gave their health and their lives developing them, sincerely believing they could save millions of lives in their actions, and then having to live with the consequences.
It's hard to find statistics on how many men and women were killed in the wars in non-military roles. The best I could dig up were that there were about 7 million civilians killed in world war I, and 55 million killed in world war II (that's actually double the number of military deaths). Equally disturbing, it is estimated that up to 12 million women were raped by soldiers during world war II, with as many as a million children being born as a result, the mothers being branded whores by the enemy, and often their own country as well.
This remembrance day, I was struck by a line in a video at a service I attended, where a Canadian soldier in Afghanistan proclaimed he was serving, so his children wouldn't have to. That's why the millions in world war I, and then II volunteered too. I pray that in another generation, I don't see a video of his son or daughter saying the same thing.
So make room for both poppies. The red remembers the veterans who served (that's the official meaning by the Canadian Legion), and the white remembers everyone else. Both are a call to end war, because that's really the only way we can fully honour the sacrifice of all the soldiers and civilians who fought, worked, suffered, and died for peace.
To quote the political and Christian rocker, Larry Norman:
"Do we really think the only way to bring about the peace is to sacrifice our children and kill all our enemies?"
I remember, and I believe in peace. Bring all the soldiers home... everywhere... forever.
Tuesday, 29 October 2013
I'm so not a science person
No, the title isn't accurate for me... my poor students if that were true! However, it's something I hear pretty often. When people ask what I teach, or when the conversation rolls around to something involving math or science, it's virtually inevitable that someone well actively, and obviously check out, usually exclaiming 'I'm not a math person', or 'I'm not a science person'. Usually it is said with pride, often with nods of approval from other 'not science people'.
I have a problem with this.
Now, I don't expect everyone to be a mathematician, or a scientist or engineer. I don't expect everyone to love these topics, follow them in their free time, and laugh at geeky pi jokes. I get that it's not everyone's cup of tea (or slice of pi, haha!). However, we live in a world where numeracy is vital, and where virtually everything we use or do relies on some pretty advanced science. We live in a world where charlatans peddle fear and profit of the scientific ignorance of others, and lack of ability to read and understand some pretty basic science leads to things like children dying because their parents are afraid of vaccines, and rubber bands with a sticker on them sell for $40 because they are 'ionic power' bracelets. You can live in this world as 'not a science person', but your experience is going to be less than full at best, and you will be vulnerable in your ignorance.
Okay, so who cares... what is the point of this post? I've been a science geek my whole life, and will continue to be long after geek chic is a thing, long after people think that posting pictures from I ******* love science makes them a science person... truthfully it's not that big a deal to me if this area of interest is popular. Actually, I'm just using it all as a long winded analogy that begins with a bit of a confession:
I'm not a huge Adoration person (it's a Roman Catholic thing for anyone reading this who isn't Catholic). It's not that I disagree with it, or that I don't 'get' it. I understand the reasoning behind it, I see it as a really high form of prayer, and truth be told I'm a little envious when I talk to someone with a huge connection to it. I've been to it many times, I've purposefully gone from time to time, I've spent time in that form of prayer... I've just never had the draw or experience other people do. I believe with my whole heart in the Eucharist, and have had powerful experiences at Mass. The times I've fallen away it is never long before I miss it and feel strongly pulled to go back. It's not that I'm somehow opposed to the tradition either. I find meaning in the Rosary, love a chanted litany, and St. Patrick's Breastplate is one of my favourite prayers.
This is the challenge of our faith. We are Catholic, which means universal. One of the things I believe that means is that we are universal in the ways God speaks to us. I am rarely more deeply in prayer than when I am on a journey up a mountain, deep in a rarely explored river canyon, or facing a challenging and adventurous set of rapids ahead. Much of that experience and the reflection after is meditative and contemplative for me. I know others meet with God in very different ways, through adoration, through traditional prayers, through charismatic prayer, through service, through contemplative prayer, through lectio divina or visio divina, through intellectual study, etc. In other words, just as our world is a complex interweaving of math and science, literature, art, social interaction etc., our faith is a complex interweaving of sacraments, spiritual disciplines, traditions, knowledge, emotion, and too many kinds of prayer to count. To limit ourselves to be the spiritual equivalent of 'not a science person' is to put ourselves in the dark, ignorant of a rich world and vulnerable in our ignorance.
The challenge here is twofold. The first is to be open to God's presence in others. This is hard, because when someone's spiritual practice is much different than our own (if you ever want to witness an example of this observe how much I stand out at a charismatic renewal service!), it can be hard to accept that as them communicating with God (with the caveat that we are talking about purposeful, active communication, not an excuse for passivity or laziness). The second, and I see it as much more important, is to work hard to become more and more universal ourselves. Every form of prayer, every discipline and activity, is an opportunity. I firmly believe it is an important job of Catholics to be open to all the kinds in the Church. For someone like me, that means going to adoration anyway, and not letting myself not be an adoration person. I don't know if/when that time will reveal something to me, or when the opportunity to pray that way will be important. It prevents fickleness robbing us from opportunities to build community and spend time in our faith and time in prayer, and it helps us be in community. I haven't seen adoration in the way that many others do, but when I try to look at it through their eyes, it brings be closer to them and to God.
The year of faith is almost done, and there is an opportunity in this last month of it. Spend some time becoming the spiritual equivalent of 'a science person'. In other words, take an opportunity to purposefully stretch yourself into some area of your faith that is dusty or undeveloped. Become more of a 'science person' in faith by delving into the prayer that has always seemed distant or remote to you. To put it more succinctly, I'll help you haul yourself up a frozen mountain if you take me to adoration.
I have a problem with this.
Now, I don't expect everyone to be a mathematician, or a scientist or engineer. I don't expect everyone to love these topics, follow them in their free time, and laugh at geeky pi jokes. I get that it's not everyone's cup of tea (or slice of pi, haha!). However, we live in a world where numeracy is vital, and where virtually everything we use or do relies on some pretty advanced science. We live in a world where charlatans peddle fear and profit of the scientific ignorance of others, and lack of ability to read and understand some pretty basic science leads to things like children dying because their parents are afraid of vaccines, and rubber bands with a sticker on them sell for $40 because they are 'ionic power' bracelets. You can live in this world as 'not a science person', but your experience is going to be less than full at best, and you will be vulnerable in your ignorance.
Okay, so who cares... what is the point of this post? I've been a science geek my whole life, and will continue to be long after geek chic is a thing, long after people think that posting pictures from I ******* love science makes them a science person... truthfully it's not that big a deal to me if this area of interest is popular. Actually, I'm just using it all as a long winded analogy that begins with a bit of a confession:
I'm not a huge Adoration person (it's a Roman Catholic thing for anyone reading this who isn't Catholic). It's not that I disagree with it, or that I don't 'get' it. I understand the reasoning behind it, I see it as a really high form of prayer, and truth be told I'm a little envious when I talk to someone with a huge connection to it. I've been to it many times, I've purposefully gone from time to time, I've spent time in that form of prayer... I've just never had the draw or experience other people do. I believe with my whole heart in the Eucharist, and have had powerful experiences at Mass. The times I've fallen away it is never long before I miss it and feel strongly pulled to go back. It's not that I'm somehow opposed to the tradition either. I find meaning in the Rosary, love a chanted litany, and St. Patrick's Breastplate is one of my favourite prayers.
This is the challenge of our faith. We are Catholic, which means universal. One of the things I believe that means is that we are universal in the ways God speaks to us. I am rarely more deeply in prayer than when I am on a journey up a mountain, deep in a rarely explored river canyon, or facing a challenging and adventurous set of rapids ahead. Much of that experience and the reflection after is meditative and contemplative for me. I know others meet with God in very different ways, through adoration, through traditional prayers, through charismatic prayer, through service, through contemplative prayer, through lectio divina or visio divina, through intellectual study, etc. In other words, just as our world is a complex interweaving of math and science, literature, art, social interaction etc., our faith is a complex interweaving of sacraments, spiritual disciplines, traditions, knowledge, emotion, and too many kinds of prayer to count. To limit ourselves to be the spiritual equivalent of 'not a science person' is to put ourselves in the dark, ignorant of a rich world and vulnerable in our ignorance.
The challenge here is twofold. The first is to be open to God's presence in others. This is hard, because when someone's spiritual practice is much different than our own (if you ever want to witness an example of this observe how much I stand out at a charismatic renewal service!), it can be hard to accept that as them communicating with God (with the caveat that we are talking about purposeful, active communication, not an excuse for passivity or laziness). The second, and I see it as much more important, is to work hard to become more and more universal ourselves. Every form of prayer, every discipline and activity, is an opportunity. I firmly believe it is an important job of Catholics to be open to all the kinds in the Church. For someone like me, that means going to adoration anyway, and not letting myself not be an adoration person. I don't know if/when that time will reveal something to me, or when the opportunity to pray that way will be important. It prevents fickleness robbing us from opportunities to build community and spend time in our faith and time in prayer, and it helps us be in community. I haven't seen adoration in the way that many others do, but when I try to look at it through their eyes, it brings be closer to them and to God.
The year of faith is almost done, and there is an opportunity in this last month of it. Spend some time becoming the spiritual equivalent of 'a science person'. In other words, take an opportunity to purposefully stretch yourself into some area of your faith that is dusty or undeveloped. Become more of a 'science person' in faith by delving into the prayer that has always seemed distant or remote to you. To put it more succinctly, I'll help you haul yourself up a frozen mountain if you take me to adoration.
Friday, 20 September 2013
Boy he's a popular guy
I have a confession to make... I like to frequent news aggregate sites and read/post in comment sections. I say confession because I can't imagine a more spectacular waste of time than arguing religion, politics, and other issues, on the internet. I make this confession for context. There is a lot of anti-Catholic/anti-religious sentiment whenever a news article comes up about the Church, good or bad. Now some of it is rational criticism of Church teachings (although usually built on a misunderstanding of Church teaching), but for the most part, it's a lot of anger, opinion, and flat out hate. I point it out because I've noticed a pretty big shift in tone since Pope Francis has been elected. I'm seeing more and more posts that say things like 'I'm an atheist, but I like this guy', or 'I'll never say anything good about the Church, but if I were going to like a Church leader, it would be this guy'. High praise coming from forums known for militant anti-theism. (please don't take any of this as an attack on atheists, it is merely a juxtaposition of different tones in posts and comments).
All of this is to say Pope Francis seems to be pretty darn popular among the general population, both Catholic and not.
So the question I want to post is whether that's a good thing. Don't worry, this isn't a reactionary post where I go on to clarify what the Pope actually means or anything like that. It's a reflection on power. Jesus actually gave us a really good model for how to challenge power, and how to know if we are popular with the right people (and by corollary, how to know if you are pissing off the right people).
Popularity is a bit of a difficult metric to work with. Popular doesn't necessarily mean good or bad, but with a close enough analysis it can be meaningful. Here's a though experiment, if Christ was successful with the pharisees would we consider his ministry successful? What about with the Romans? Many, both within and outside the church measure the value of Christ's teachings by the fact he was popular with the disenfranchised. He was perfectly capable of seeing the injustice in the power structures of the day, and then giving some of the power and voice of those people to the everyday person, and even more so, to the people who are the farthest from it.
By that metric, who is the most disenfranchised in the Church? It depends one the lens we use, but through the lens of doctrine, it's probably the people who either struggle with a rule, or are breaking it. That's not to say the doctrine is bad, or that we need to change it to be more inclusive. Christ never said that, and neither has Pope Francis. The way Christ gave sinners at the time a voice was by building a relationship with them. He didn't stand on a street corner threatening them with hell if they didn't change. He showed them love, got to know them, and then challenged them to be better. They loved him for it. The ones with the power to exclude them, judge them because they had broken the rules, and threaten them with hell were the ones who were pissed off, because by bringing the sinners from the outside to the inside, the pharisees lost their power. But to be sure, Christ didn't alter a single stroke of a single letter of the law when he did what he did.
In the end it's hard to judge if Pope Francis' popularity is meaningful. I'd say the media's love for him is some nice positive attention, but that's about it. His popularity with the disenfranchised groups... the sinners? That means the world. So the challenge for us already in the circles of power, the ones with privilege (and by that I include any of us who have had the benefit of lots of formation and teaching, a deep understanding of the faith and the church, and relationships which afford us a position where we can confidently call ourselves 'real' Catholics), is whether we hold that power and long for days when we can dominate the message with moral rules, or whether we take up the yoke and do the hard work of building relationships, lending our voice to the disenfranchised. What Pope Francis is calling us to is to use our doctrine as an instrument of healing... as a shared meal, a salve for those in pain, and a voice for the voiceless, not a sword for building armies and cutting down the ones we consider bad.
Is Pope Francis' popularity good and meaningful? It will be if us, his congregation, listen to his whole message with an open heart.
All of this is to say Pope Francis seems to be pretty darn popular among the general population, both Catholic and not.
So the question I want to post is whether that's a good thing. Don't worry, this isn't a reactionary post where I go on to clarify what the Pope actually means or anything like that. It's a reflection on power. Jesus actually gave us a really good model for how to challenge power, and how to know if we are popular with the right people (and by corollary, how to know if you are pissing off the right people).
Popularity is a bit of a difficult metric to work with. Popular doesn't necessarily mean good or bad, but with a close enough analysis it can be meaningful. Here's a though experiment, if Christ was successful with the pharisees would we consider his ministry successful? What about with the Romans? Many, both within and outside the church measure the value of Christ's teachings by the fact he was popular with the disenfranchised. He was perfectly capable of seeing the injustice in the power structures of the day, and then giving some of the power and voice of those people to the everyday person, and even more so, to the people who are the farthest from it.
By that metric, who is the most disenfranchised in the Church? It depends one the lens we use, but through the lens of doctrine, it's probably the people who either struggle with a rule, or are breaking it. That's not to say the doctrine is bad, or that we need to change it to be more inclusive. Christ never said that, and neither has Pope Francis. The way Christ gave sinners at the time a voice was by building a relationship with them. He didn't stand on a street corner threatening them with hell if they didn't change. He showed them love, got to know them, and then challenged them to be better. They loved him for it. The ones with the power to exclude them, judge them because they had broken the rules, and threaten them with hell were the ones who were pissed off, because by bringing the sinners from the outside to the inside, the pharisees lost their power. But to be sure, Christ didn't alter a single stroke of a single letter of the law when he did what he did.
In the end it's hard to judge if Pope Francis' popularity is meaningful. I'd say the media's love for him is some nice positive attention, but that's about it. His popularity with the disenfranchised groups... the sinners? That means the world. So the challenge for us already in the circles of power, the ones with privilege (and by that I include any of us who have had the benefit of lots of formation and teaching, a deep understanding of the faith and the church, and relationships which afford us a position where we can confidently call ourselves 'real' Catholics), is whether we hold that power and long for days when we can dominate the message with moral rules, or whether we take up the yoke and do the hard work of building relationships, lending our voice to the disenfranchised. What Pope Francis is calling us to is to use our doctrine as an instrument of healing... as a shared meal, a salve for those in pain, and a voice for the voiceless, not a sword for building armies and cutting down the ones we consider bad.
Is Pope Francis' popularity good and meaningful? It will be if us, his congregation, listen to his whole message with an open heart.
Monday, 2 September 2013
On the eve of greatness
Well, I'm back from holidays, which of course means school is starting up again. Something really amazing is going to happen tomorrow. A community of people is going to gather for the first time since the flood. We won't all be back, not all of our kids will be in the building tomorrow, because we don't actually have the building ready yet, but a group of kids will be with us for some core classes. All last week, in preparing for the year, I've been in awe of the community. First of all, in awe of the families supporting us, and coming back to our school despite the hardships. Equally as much, in awe of the staff and admin. After what has to be a tremendously difficult summer, we are blessed to come back to joyful, patient, and loving leaders. At the same time, our support staff are going full steam to do everything they can to make the teachers' jobs possible. Finally the teachers at the school are such an inspiring group to be around. I honestly don't feel worthy to be in such tremendous company. The compassion, joy, and dedication to make this year amazing for the students is incredible.
Shortly after the flood, a friend of ours, Greg Thompson, sent us a message of encouragement and prayer, and offered his wisdom. Something he said has stuck with me all summer. In his words, this is why we are in High River. I pray I will be able to make a contribution to this year, but if nothing else I feel blessed that I will be able to witness it.
I don't believe God sent the flood to send some sort of message or teach some sort of less, or to test us. I believe things like disasters happen because they do... it's just part of nature. I can't answer questions about why bad things happen to good people, except to say that if we have free will, there have to be good times and bad for it to have meaning. A rollercoaster with no dips and hills isn't much of a ride. Honestly, that's a huge question, and I don't want to get side tracked trying to answer it right now, or to pretend my answer is right. I don't want that side track because I know where God is in all of this. God is in the hearts of our community. God is in the teachers, staff, admin, students, and families of our school. God is there blessing the hard work and sacrifice of everyone who is going to make this year one our school will never forget. God is there in the greatness His children are going to make happen tomorrow, and every day as our school journeys through such a huge challenge.
Our school isn't a building, it's a family. The reunion starts tomorrow and it's gonna be amazing.
Shortly after the flood, a friend of ours, Greg Thompson, sent us a message of encouragement and prayer, and offered his wisdom. Something he said has stuck with me all summer. In his words, this is why we are in High River. I pray I will be able to make a contribution to this year, but if nothing else I feel blessed that I will be able to witness it.
I don't believe God sent the flood to send some sort of message or teach some sort of less, or to test us. I believe things like disasters happen because they do... it's just part of nature. I can't answer questions about why bad things happen to good people, except to say that if we have free will, there have to be good times and bad for it to have meaning. A rollercoaster with no dips and hills isn't much of a ride. Honestly, that's a huge question, and I don't want to get side tracked trying to answer it right now, or to pretend my answer is right. I don't want that side track because I know where God is in all of this. God is in the hearts of our community. God is in the teachers, staff, admin, students, and families of our school. God is there blessing the hard work and sacrifice of everyone who is going to make this year one our school will never forget. God is there in the greatness His children are going to make happen tomorrow, and every day as our school journeys through such a huge challenge.
Our school isn't a building, it's a family. The reunion starts tomorrow and it's gonna be amazing.
Tuesday, 13 August 2013
A change would do you good.
I'm an educator, and one of the things we often say/hear in education when a new model or method or technology rolls around is:
"That's just change for change's sake".
It's meant as a defensive statement. What it really means is"
"I'm going to passive aggressively ignore that until something else comes along, and then I'll ignore that and keep going the way I have been for years".
I doubt it's unique to education, we don't like change in general. I'm fascinated by it. It stresses me out a bit, and it's rarely comfortable, but I actually love change sometimes. It's exciting, it's a bit frightening, it's an adventure. I've studied change and change management quite a bit. It's a broad topic, and a tremendously deep one.
So here's my question... what's wrong with change for change's sake. That statement implies that change is bad unless it has some extrinsic value, while denying the intrinsic value of change. To see that we have to look at what the opposite of change is. The opposite of change is routine, it's sameness. Now, sameness, routine, tradition, these aren't bad. They have lots of value. They let us be efficient. They let us be comfortable. They let us think about things besides the mechanics of what we're doing, and dig in deeper to other things. But they aren't all good either. Comfort is probably one of the biggest temptations we face, without ever really seeing it. So much of our lives is centred around comfort it's scary. People spend a lot of time and money on comfort. Comfort is leading us to destruction of the planet. Comfort allows us to ignore someone in need. Comfort prevents us from taking risks. Comfort focusses our vision on why not instead of why.
As Catholics change is a tricky subject. We have both the support and the weight of 2000 years of tradition and theology with us. Very many people find very great comfort in the way we do things, and have for a long time. It's why even small changes to something like the Mass can cause so much disturbance. At the same time, some folks feel stagnant. They don't have an emotional connection to some traditions, and so they feel the desire for change. Of course this leads to great tension. To change means to mourn the loss of a way or pattern, in a process that is psychologically very much like mourning a death. To not change means, for some, to slowly die of stagnation, or worse for others, to become grumpy in our faith because we can't deal with the small changes that happen around us.
So what do we do? The leaders of the Church tackle the issue on an institutional level, but how do we manage this on a personal level? This is where I propose change for change's sake on a pretty regular basis. I suffer spiritual stagnation on a pretty periodic basis. Guaranteed over the course of a year I'll slip in to going through the motions a couple of times, and need to be refreshed. But how does a Catholic change? I mean, if I'm feeling stagnant, I can't just change the Mass, or the teachings of the Church, or who I am. What can we change. This is where the beauty of the Universal Church lies. There is so much we can explore within the realm of the faith that no one could ever cover it all in a single lifetime. To become complacent in one form of prayer or action is a call to find another that challenges us, that we are uncomfortable with. When I am so comfortable as a musician in the Church that I don't even think about it, that the spiritual side stagnates, then I need to find another ministry or direction that makes me uncomfortable. When my prayer life is routine enough that I feel bored, I need to find a new way to pray that is uncomfortable for me. Personally I can pray very easily outside, and I draw joy from creation, but I struggle with connecting to some of the traditional prayers of the Church. So when I find myself paddling a river or climbing a mountain and I don't even notice the call to pray and recognize God, it's time for me to pull out my rosary, or spend some time in adoration, or read something by a saint. It's time to change my approach to God.
So my suggestion is go find something in the way you approach God to change, just for the sake of change. For no other reason than it will challenge you, make you uncomfortable, and get you to take a step outside whatever part of you is getting too routine. Find something about the Church that scares you or makes you grumpy and jump right in to it. To quote John Ortberg, if you want to walk on water, you have to get out of the boat.
"That's just change for change's sake".
It's meant as a defensive statement. What it really means is"
"I'm going to passive aggressively ignore that until something else comes along, and then I'll ignore that and keep going the way I have been for years".
I doubt it's unique to education, we don't like change in general. I'm fascinated by it. It stresses me out a bit, and it's rarely comfortable, but I actually love change sometimes. It's exciting, it's a bit frightening, it's an adventure. I've studied change and change management quite a bit. It's a broad topic, and a tremendously deep one.
So here's my question... what's wrong with change for change's sake. That statement implies that change is bad unless it has some extrinsic value, while denying the intrinsic value of change. To see that we have to look at what the opposite of change is. The opposite of change is routine, it's sameness. Now, sameness, routine, tradition, these aren't bad. They have lots of value. They let us be efficient. They let us be comfortable. They let us think about things besides the mechanics of what we're doing, and dig in deeper to other things. But they aren't all good either. Comfort is probably one of the biggest temptations we face, without ever really seeing it. So much of our lives is centred around comfort it's scary. People spend a lot of time and money on comfort. Comfort is leading us to destruction of the planet. Comfort allows us to ignore someone in need. Comfort prevents us from taking risks. Comfort focusses our vision on why not instead of why.
As Catholics change is a tricky subject. We have both the support and the weight of 2000 years of tradition and theology with us. Very many people find very great comfort in the way we do things, and have for a long time. It's why even small changes to something like the Mass can cause so much disturbance. At the same time, some folks feel stagnant. They don't have an emotional connection to some traditions, and so they feel the desire for change. Of course this leads to great tension. To change means to mourn the loss of a way or pattern, in a process that is psychologically very much like mourning a death. To not change means, for some, to slowly die of stagnation, or worse for others, to become grumpy in our faith because we can't deal with the small changes that happen around us.
So what do we do? The leaders of the Church tackle the issue on an institutional level, but how do we manage this on a personal level? This is where I propose change for change's sake on a pretty regular basis. I suffer spiritual stagnation on a pretty periodic basis. Guaranteed over the course of a year I'll slip in to going through the motions a couple of times, and need to be refreshed. But how does a Catholic change? I mean, if I'm feeling stagnant, I can't just change the Mass, or the teachings of the Church, or who I am. What can we change. This is where the beauty of the Universal Church lies. There is so much we can explore within the realm of the faith that no one could ever cover it all in a single lifetime. To become complacent in one form of prayer or action is a call to find another that challenges us, that we are uncomfortable with. When I am so comfortable as a musician in the Church that I don't even think about it, that the spiritual side stagnates, then I need to find another ministry or direction that makes me uncomfortable. When my prayer life is routine enough that I feel bored, I need to find a new way to pray that is uncomfortable for me. Personally I can pray very easily outside, and I draw joy from creation, but I struggle with connecting to some of the traditional prayers of the Church. So when I find myself paddling a river or climbing a mountain and I don't even notice the call to pray and recognize God, it's time for me to pull out my rosary, or spend some time in adoration, or read something by a saint. It's time to change my approach to God.
So my suggestion is go find something in the way you approach God to change, just for the sake of change. For no other reason than it will challenge you, make you uncomfortable, and get you to take a step outside whatever part of you is getting too routine. Find something about the Church that scares you or makes you grumpy and jump right in to it. To quote John Ortberg, if you want to walk on water, you have to get out of the boat.
Saturday, 10 August 2013
So now he's a liberal?
So I saw this gem posted on Facebook today:
http://www.ncregister.com/blog/pat-archbold/10-quotes-that-prove-the-pope-is-a-liberal
I'm not sure which I laughed more at, the leaps in logic and judgements of the article, or some of the quotes at the bottom.
There's been a lot of spin about Pope Francis' words and actions so far. The traditionalists jumping in with a 'but' at the end of every sentance about how what he really means is [fill in the blank], and the main stream media in a frenzy that he is changing the church and making it more progressive, and radically altering what it means to be Catholic.
I'm going to refer to the crass wisdom of Christopher Titus on this one.
That's just Coke and Pepsi, same crap, different can...
Here's the thing: If you're so far left you actually believe that somebody owes you a job, citizenship and a heart transplant, you're mentally ill. If you're so far right that you actually believe that somebody who doesn't have a job and is not a citizen deserves to have their heart cut out and sold on eBay, and you get to keep 80 percent of the profit ` you're mentally ill.
I firmly believe that there is no room for political 'isms' in the Church, and I don't think there are any in Church teachings. We don't judge our beliefs on the standards of political parties, who hunger only for power, or by the whim of the main stream media. The pope isn't 'a liberal'... he's the Pope.
The problem is that we are so polarized now to believe that if you are compassionate, concerned with the minorities and voiceless, or work to improve the environment you are far to the left. If you like tradition, want to take change at a managed or thoughtful pace, and believe in building responsibility, you are far to the right. The truth is Church teaching can't fit into either side, because neither side is the truth. When Pope Francis washes the feet of incarcerated teenagers, and tells Catholics to be just and compassionate to all, especially the marginalized, he isn't being a liberal. He is being the Pope and living the teachings of Christ. Liberal political parties just tend to agree with him on that one. When he celebrates Mass, and refuses to budge on the teachings of marriage and priesthood, held with deep theological reasons by the Church, he isn't being conservative. A conservative political party might just happen to agree (although likely for entirely different reasons).
One of the things I love the most about Pope Francis and Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI is that they break the media fuelled polarization. Together they represent the same Church, the same teachings, but have very different personalities and focusses. They show that the Church isn't left or right, it isn't represented by the Republicans or Democrats, PCs or Liberals, or any other 'ism' or political movement. The yin and yang of the Church are that we have traditions and laws, built up over millennia, but we are called to be focussed in compassion and love on all of our brothers and sisters, not just the ones who agree with us, make sense to us, or know the laws the best.
Our faith can't be contained by the left or the right because it is too big. Our Church is too universal. Pope Francis isn't a Liberal, he's a Catholic, and one who is challenging all of us to live our faith in a much more compassionate and loving way.
http://www.ncregister.com/blog/pat-archbold/10-quotes-that-prove-the-pope-is-a-liberal
I'm not sure which I laughed more at, the leaps in logic and judgements of the article, or some of the quotes at the bottom.
There's been a lot of spin about Pope Francis' words and actions so far. The traditionalists jumping in with a 'but' at the end of every sentance about how what he really means is [fill in the blank], and the main stream media in a frenzy that he is changing the church and making it more progressive, and radically altering what it means to be Catholic.
I'm going to refer to the crass wisdom of Christopher Titus on this one.
That's just Coke and Pepsi, same crap, different can...
Here's the thing: If you're so far left you actually believe that somebody owes you a job, citizenship and a heart transplant, you're mentally ill. If you're so far right that you actually believe that somebody who doesn't have a job and is not a citizen deserves to have their heart cut out and sold on eBay, and you get to keep 80 percent of the profit ` you're mentally ill.
I firmly believe that there is no room for political 'isms' in the Church, and I don't think there are any in Church teachings. We don't judge our beliefs on the standards of political parties, who hunger only for power, or by the whim of the main stream media. The pope isn't 'a liberal'... he's the Pope.
The problem is that we are so polarized now to believe that if you are compassionate, concerned with the minorities and voiceless, or work to improve the environment you are far to the left. If you like tradition, want to take change at a managed or thoughtful pace, and believe in building responsibility, you are far to the right. The truth is Church teaching can't fit into either side, because neither side is the truth. When Pope Francis washes the feet of incarcerated teenagers, and tells Catholics to be just and compassionate to all, especially the marginalized, he isn't being a liberal. He is being the Pope and living the teachings of Christ. Liberal political parties just tend to agree with him on that one. When he celebrates Mass, and refuses to budge on the teachings of marriage and priesthood, held with deep theological reasons by the Church, he isn't being conservative. A conservative political party might just happen to agree (although likely for entirely different reasons).
One of the things I love the most about Pope Francis and Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI is that they break the media fuelled polarization. Together they represent the same Church, the same teachings, but have very different personalities and focusses. They show that the Church isn't left or right, it isn't represented by the Republicans or Democrats, PCs or Liberals, or any other 'ism' or political movement. The yin and yang of the Church are that we have traditions and laws, built up over millennia, but we are called to be focussed in compassion and love on all of our brothers and sisters, not just the ones who agree with us, make sense to us, or know the laws the best.
Our faith can't be contained by the left or the right because it is too big. Our Church is too universal. Pope Francis isn't a Liberal, he's a Catholic, and one who is challenging all of us to live our faith in a much more compassionate and loving way.
Saturday, 3 August 2013
Part II: Where there is joy
I'm sorry for technically not making this post 'tomorrow'. It's been a tough bit of reflection on how to finish the story. I'm not writing this to publicly blame or shame anyone, or air dirty laundry. Like I said in the intro post, it's the joy of a few people, that they shared through World Youth Day, that inspired this, so I'm struggling to return this to that purpose. I think I'll start by sharing a little about an inspiration of mine. The guy is Steve Angrisano. He's a composer, musican, and speaker with Oregon Catholic Press. I'm not going to debate the merits or OCP and it's artists right now. I'm just going to share that on Facebook the other day, Steve shared a video of a psalm setting he composed being sung at a Liturgy recently. He was giddy like a little kid. He was full of joy about it. Look him up and check out his Facebook page if you want to see the post. His joy is contagious. That joy is one of the reasons I'm a musician, it's the reason I became a youth minister, it's likely why I'm even Catholic. It's full of the Holy Spirit, and totally transparent. There's no performance in it, there's no pride in it. It's just joy because he loves God and is sincerely excited to get to share that. I've been privileged enough that he has shared it one on one with me through different conversations, trips to the airport when we've hired him to speak in Calgary and Okotoks, playing music with him at Mass a couple of times, and getting to witness him inspire and share his contagious joy.
I'm sharing this (I know, it sounds like a starstruck fan now), because that's where my voice came from. Joy is what I experienced ministering through music for so many years, and being blessed enough to both lead, and work under incredible leaders in music. Every Sunday I would fight my way to Church. If that meant pushing my body hard to finish a big ski 3 hours from Calgary in time to haul back to Calgary for practice before Mass, or doing homework on a Saturday so I had Sunday evening free, or eating and running from a Sunday family dinner and jogging down the road with my guitar in hand, I made sure I was there. I did it because of the joy I experienced. On a Sunday when I didn't really love the music selection, or wasn't feeling awesome with my playing, I still felt such an incredible connection to the Mass through the joy I felt getting to serve. When someone didn't like the music I understood, because like I said yesterday, it's not as universal as we want it to be. The congregation still participated so fully in the song and prayer, that it was impossible not to see the love of God there and feel that joy. I don't mean the rush of performing, or the fun of playing enjoyable music, I mean the deep joy of God's presence. I had someone come up to me once and tell me that I reminded him of a hippy because I played the guitar, and that he didn't like hippies. That didn't bother me because no one ever said he had to like guitar music, and for every experience like that, I had 10 where people thanked me for helping them connect to God in the Mass on a deeper level, and I thanked God for those.
The change came when some people I love and trusted started changing the tune. It wasn't about not liking certain kinds of music any more. The conversation started shifting to why it's never appropriate to play a percussive instrument in Church because it can't be done in a way that's solemn enough, how chords on a guitar simply aren't high enough quality for the Mass, how piano is too idiosyncratic to inspire faith, how contemporary music is theologically too thin, how a song where we sing about God's relationship with us, or where we acknowledge the challenge to go forth and serve is worshipping the congregation instead of god, how anything with a blues, jazz, folk, or any other contemporary inspiration isn't okay because those sounds weren't invented for the Mass like a Gregorian chants were. Maybe it was always there and I just didn't get exposed to it, maybe it was a shift in culture where I live, maybe it was a backlash to the too many musicians who were willing to throw all liturgical tradition out the window to have some cool music... I don't know. What I know is that more and more people started finding theological sounding reasons why what I had been doing for the last 15 years of my life in service to the Church wasn't actually a service. It was vile (not my words, someone else's). It was low quality. It was pandering. No one ever said it, but the message was that God didn't want it in Church. It upsets me because it's theologizing an opinion. It isn't some direct application of Church law, it's finding a way to crush the thought of someone who disagrees, and push it out unchallenged. If someone had been up front, and said 'this isn't the music we prefer, please go in this direction instead', I could have at least either said sure and challenged myself, or walked away feeling okay about it, because music opinion is what it is. It wasn't that though, it was people needing to bolster their opinion at the expense of the gifts and service of someone else, and I just couldn't deal with that.
Every week I'd go to play, or go to Church in fear of what would be said, or what would be taken away. First the drums went (I was the only one who played them, and in a prideful moment I would boast I am tremendously good at using them well, and solemnly, and appropriately to support and uplift prayer), then it was the song books, then it was the Mass parts. I didn't feel welcome. I felt like the contribution I worked so hard over the years, and had witnessed such incredible fruits from, was being cut out at the roots. Every week, when something disappeared, so did a little of my joy, and with it went my voice, until I felt like I was standing on the outside of the Church looking in, not understanding what had happened.
I'm not going to stand here pointing fingers though. No one can take away a person's faith and joy. No one. You can only give it away. But the fight can get tiring. Between that and the pride/ownership I took in what I had done over the years, I let mine slip away. I'm still struggling to let it go and take a hold of that joy. Make no mistake, nothing was taken from me, I let it go. Some of it was because I was hurt by the words of people I love and trust, a good chunk was because of pride and stubborness, and some of it was because for many years I let one kind of service define my faith, and when that service was gone I was lost.
But this brings me back around to the quote from yesterday's post... "May we be untiring in love, so that we serve all with a generous and creative heart." It's the serve all, and the creative parts of the quote that really jumped out at me. All. That's hard. When I was working in Ireland, much of the ministry was outreach to people who had left or were marginalized by the Church because they felt hurt by it. It's hard ministry. It means hearing people who's experience and the reality they constructed out of it, was one where the rules were more important than their pain, fear, or worry. Many of the people we reached out to had been coming to Mass for years, even decades, faithfully, because they knew God was there. At the same time they were in pain every time they came. Lost in the shadows and corners of the faith because someone, somewhere along the way, or more likely many 'someones' had treated them unjustly. I'd be willing to be that most of the injustices were unintentional, and unrecognized, as I'm sure much of the difficulty I faced was. This is why St. Alphonsus' words are so important. Our love for each other, for everyone who comes to the door seeking God and community, knows it. Our creativity needs to be so profound that we find ways to make someone welcome, no matter what they bring to the door with them. I understood it then, and I know it now because of my own experience. Not everyone in the Church has to be looking for the ones at Mass who are lost, lonely, hurting, or feeling voiceless, but some need to take St. Alphonsus' words to heart and be those ones, watching the outskirts, the fringes, and the shadows of our faith, welcoming the ones on the outside looking in longingly. Someone needs to be there to say to them:
'You are more important to me than a rule, let me share my joy with you, no strings attached. When there is a relationship, and an emotion, and an experience of God's love, we can worry about the more challenging and technical stuff then, for now let's be joyful together. God loves us.'
May God bless everyone in the Church who has the gift of finding the lost in the shadows, seeing the unknown hurt our words and actions can cause, and giving a voice to the voiceless through joy, so the voiceless can share their story and heal from whatever is keeping them away from the light. Let's be so joyful its contagious. I'm going to try to do that, and find my own voice again, in part through this blog. I hope I can write well enough to keep you reading, share my joy, and shine some light in the corners.
Here's Steve singing the psalm I mentioned at the beginning. If it's not your cup of tea, share what is so we can share in your joy too.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7jpnYSTnv8
I'm sharing this (I know, it sounds like a starstruck fan now), because that's where my voice came from. Joy is what I experienced ministering through music for so many years, and being blessed enough to both lead, and work under incredible leaders in music. Every Sunday I would fight my way to Church. If that meant pushing my body hard to finish a big ski 3 hours from Calgary in time to haul back to Calgary for practice before Mass, or doing homework on a Saturday so I had Sunday evening free, or eating and running from a Sunday family dinner and jogging down the road with my guitar in hand, I made sure I was there. I did it because of the joy I experienced. On a Sunday when I didn't really love the music selection, or wasn't feeling awesome with my playing, I still felt such an incredible connection to the Mass through the joy I felt getting to serve. When someone didn't like the music I understood, because like I said yesterday, it's not as universal as we want it to be. The congregation still participated so fully in the song and prayer, that it was impossible not to see the love of God there and feel that joy. I don't mean the rush of performing, or the fun of playing enjoyable music, I mean the deep joy of God's presence. I had someone come up to me once and tell me that I reminded him of a hippy because I played the guitar, and that he didn't like hippies. That didn't bother me because no one ever said he had to like guitar music, and for every experience like that, I had 10 where people thanked me for helping them connect to God in the Mass on a deeper level, and I thanked God for those.
The change came when some people I love and trusted started changing the tune. It wasn't about not liking certain kinds of music any more. The conversation started shifting to why it's never appropriate to play a percussive instrument in Church because it can't be done in a way that's solemn enough, how chords on a guitar simply aren't high enough quality for the Mass, how piano is too idiosyncratic to inspire faith, how contemporary music is theologically too thin, how a song where we sing about God's relationship with us, or where we acknowledge the challenge to go forth and serve is worshipping the congregation instead of god, how anything with a blues, jazz, folk, or any other contemporary inspiration isn't okay because those sounds weren't invented for the Mass like a Gregorian chants were. Maybe it was always there and I just didn't get exposed to it, maybe it was a shift in culture where I live, maybe it was a backlash to the too many musicians who were willing to throw all liturgical tradition out the window to have some cool music... I don't know. What I know is that more and more people started finding theological sounding reasons why what I had been doing for the last 15 years of my life in service to the Church wasn't actually a service. It was vile (not my words, someone else's). It was low quality. It was pandering. No one ever said it, but the message was that God didn't want it in Church. It upsets me because it's theologizing an opinion. It isn't some direct application of Church law, it's finding a way to crush the thought of someone who disagrees, and push it out unchallenged. If someone had been up front, and said 'this isn't the music we prefer, please go in this direction instead', I could have at least either said sure and challenged myself, or walked away feeling okay about it, because music opinion is what it is. It wasn't that though, it was people needing to bolster their opinion at the expense of the gifts and service of someone else, and I just couldn't deal with that.
Every week I'd go to play, or go to Church in fear of what would be said, or what would be taken away. First the drums went (I was the only one who played them, and in a prideful moment I would boast I am tremendously good at using them well, and solemnly, and appropriately to support and uplift prayer), then it was the song books, then it was the Mass parts. I didn't feel welcome. I felt like the contribution I worked so hard over the years, and had witnessed such incredible fruits from, was being cut out at the roots. Every week, when something disappeared, so did a little of my joy, and with it went my voice, until I felt like I was standing on the outside of the Church looking in, not understanding what had happened.
I'm not going to stand here pointing fingers though. No one can take away a person's faith and joy. No one. You can only give it away. But the fight can get tiring. Between that and the pride/ownership I took in what I had done over the years, I let mine slip away. I'm still struggling to let it go and take a hold of that joy. Make no mistake, nothing was taken from me, I let it go. Some of it was because I was hurt by the words of people I love and trust, a good chunk was because of pride and stubborness, and some of it was because for many years I let one kind of service define my faith, and when that service was gone I was lost.
But this brings me back around to the quote from yesterday's post... "May we be untiring in love, so that we serve all with a generous and creative heart." It's the serve all, and the creative parts of the quote that really jumped out at me. All. That's hard. When I was working in Ireland, much of the ministry was outreach to people who had left or were marginalized by the Church because they felt hurt by it. It's hard ministry. It means hearing people who's experience and the reality they constructed out of it, was one where the rules were more important than their pain, fear, or worry. Many of the people we reached out to had been coming to Mass for years, even decades, faithfully, because they knew God was there. At the same time they were in pain every time they came. Lost in the shadows and corners of the faith because someone, somewhere along the way, or more likely many 'someones' had treated them unjustly. I'd be willing to be that most of the injustices were unintentional, and unrecognized, as I'm sure much of the difficulty I faced was. This is why St. Alphonsus' words are so important. Our love for each other, for everyone who comes to the door seeking God and community, knows it. Our creativity needs to be so profound that we find ways to make someone welcome, no matter what they bring to the door with them. I understood it then, and I know it now because of my own experience. Not everyone in the Church has to be looking for the ones at Mass who are lost, lonely, hurting, or feeling voiceless, but some need to take St. Alphonsus' words to heart and be those ones, watching the outskirts, the fringes, and the shadows of our faith, welcoming the ones on the outside looking in longingly. Someone needs to be there to say to them:
'You are more important to me than a rule, let me share my joy with you, no strings attached. When there is a relationship, and an emotion, and an experience of God's love, we can worry about the more challenging and technical stuff then, for now let's be joyful together. God loves us.'
May God bless everyone in the Church who has the gift of finding the lost in the shadows, seeing the unknown hurt our words and actions can cause, and giving a voice to the voiceless through joy, so the voiceless can share their story and heal from whatever is keeping them away from the light. Let's be so joyful its contagious. I'm going to try to do that, and find my own voice again, in part through this blog. I hope I can write well enough to keep you reading, share my joy, and shine some light in the corners.
Here's Steve singing the psalm I mentioned at the beginning. If it's not your cup of tea, share what is so we can share in your joy too.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7jpnYSTnv8
Thursday, 1 August 2013
So how does someone like you become disenfranchised?
I promised in my first post to tell the little bit of my story that has been happening over the last while and how I came to feel marginalized and disenfranchised in the Church. I've been shying away from putting it out there, because it's not a really nice one, but it's been weighing me down a lot. But today is the feast day of St. Alphonsus. Much of my own faith formation happened with his order, the Redemptorists, and a particular quote of his frames this story. "May we be untiring in love, so that we serve all with a generous and creative heart."
I'm going to start by recognizing that a significant portion of my distance from the community of the Church over the last year is because of my own pride. That's important because letting that go is an ongoing challenge for me.
I'm not 100% sure the best place to start this story. It's kind of all over the map. I guess a conversation with a friend who is a priest really frames it well. I was expressing some displeasure with an article the friend had posted online. I felt it was pretty heavy on the judgemental tone, and I was projecting that judgement on to myself. It was a friendly conversation, and in it the friend expressed surprise that I felt like I was on the fringes of the Church. In his words, he saw me as a bulwark of the faith. I think that's representation of my history. I was on the fringes as a teenager, but through the care and invitation of some amazing folks, was brought in, welcomed, and built up over many, many years. I started volunteering and participating a lot, and eventually worked full time in youth ministry.
That moved on, but I stayed connected through music ministry. I lead a choir, and when I couldn't lead anymore, I passed that on to an amazing musician, and stayed on as a player. I invested a lot of time, effort, and love to that ministry. I learned guitar, bass, banjo and mandolin specifically to adapt to the needs of the different groups I played in, and invested a lot of money in high quality instruments, suitable for Mass. I was invited to lead music for large groups, play in praise and worship bands, and teach others about music in liturgy. I invested in my liturgical education. I went to every diocesan sponsored workshop and offering, travelled to liturgical music conferences, talked to other Catholic musicians, read books. I became very passionate about music, specifically music in Catholic liturgies. I was sent for formation in this ministry by the leaders in my Church, and trust in that formation. My mission was to lead engaging, meaningful, and appropriate music in Mass. I worked hard to find and learn music that the congregation could participate in, was culturally relevant to young people, without being exclusive to them, was community oriented, focussed on God, was solemn and joyful, and high enough quality to be expressed as prayer during the Eucharist. I connected to the Mass in ways that were deeply meaningful to me, and always experienced joy from the amazing participation of our congregation. I was also blessed with many compliments, all of which I pass on credit to God for.
Now, with all of this said, I know music is universal in two things. The first is its ability to stir the heart, and inspire. It is so powerful, and when it is done well, serves the Mass in amazing ways. The second is that everyone has an opinion on it. The music we lead at Mass, that I learned from the Church how to lead, isn't for everyone. Contemporary liturgical music doesn't stir the hearts of some people (please note, I am speaking of liturgical music, not rock-masses, not praise and worship, not Christian pop top 40). Folk music from the early days of the post Vatican II Church is all some parishioners know, and what they love, for others it turns their stomach. Some of the people I am close to connect to traditional chants in a deeply powerful way that I am in awe of, but that I have never experienced. At the same time I have been moved to tears by Taize chanting. Because of this, music is something people tend to disagree on from time to time. I accept this as normal, natural, and important.
I'm realizing as I write this, that the story is going to be pretty long. I think I'll end it here and call it Part 1. There's a natural break here and I'll finish the story tomorrow.
I'm going to start by recognizing that a significant portion of my distance from the community of the Church over the last year is because of my own pride. That's important because letting that go is an ongoing challenge for me.
I'm not 100% sure the best place to start this story. It's kind of all over the map. I guess a conversation with a friend who is a priest really frames it well. I was expressing some displeasure with an article the friend had posted online. I felt it was pretty heavy on the judgemental tone, and I was projecting that judgement on to myself. It was a friendly conversation, and in it the friend expressed surprise that I felt like I was on the fringes of the Church. In his words, he saw me as a bulwark of the faith. I think that's representation of my history. I was on the fringes as a teenager, but through the care and invitation of some amazing folks, was brought in, welcomed, and built up over many, many years. I started volunteering and participating a lot, and eventually worked full time in youth ministry.
That moved on, but I stayed connected through music ministry. I lead a choir, and when I couldn't lead anymore, I passed that on to an amazing musician, and stayed on as a player. I invested a lot of time, effort, and love to that ministry. I learned guitar, bass, banjo and mandolin specifically to adapt to the needs of the different groups I played in, and invested a lot of money in high quality instruments, suitable for Mass. I was invited to lead music for large groups, play in praise and worship bands, and teach others about music in liturgy. I invested in my liturgical education. I went to every diocesan sponsored workshop and offering, travelled to liturgical music conferences, talked to other Catholic musicians, read books. I became very passionate about music, specifically music in Catholic liturgies. I was sent for formation in this ministry by the leaders in my Church, and trust in that formation. My mission was to lead engaging, meaningful, and appropriate music in Mass. I worked hard to find and learn music that the congregation could participate in, was culturally relevant to young people, without being exclusive to them, was community oriented, focussed on God, was solemn and joyful, and high enough quality to be expressed as prayer during the Eucharist. I connected to the Mass in ways that were deeply meaningful to me, and always experienced joy from the amazing participation of our congregation. I was also blessed with many compliments, all of which I pass on credit to God for.
Now, with all of this said, I know music is universal in two things. The first is its ability to stir the heart, and inspire. It is so powerful, and when it is done well, serves the Mass in amazing ways. The second is that everyone has an opinion on it. The music we lead at Mass, that I learned from the Church how to lead, isn't for everyone. Contemporary liturgical music doesn't stir the hearts of some people (please note, I am speaking of liturgical music, not rock-masses, not praise and worship, not Christian pop top 40). Folk music from the early days of the post Vatican II Church is all some parishioners know, and what they love, for others it turns their stomach. Some of the people I am close to connect to traditional chants in a deeply powerful way that I am in awe of, but that I have never experienced. At the same time I have been moved to tears by Taize chanting. Because of this, music is something people tend to disagree on from time to time. I accept this as normal, natural, and important.
I'm realizing as I write this, that the story is going to be pretty long. I think I'll end it here and call it Part 1. There's a natural break here and I'll finish the story tomorrow.
Monday, 29 July 2013
There's not a lot to say in this first post except to explain why I'm jumping back in to blogging. I've been feeling pretty marginalized and disenfranchised in my faith and in the Church for a while now. I'll tell that story soon, because I know a lot of people in the Church who know me would find it surprising. I was inspired watching the coverage from Steve Angrisano of World Youth Day, and sheer joy of the pilgrims. The message to get out there and be active in our faith tells me I need to find my voice again, and this blog is really how I'm starting that. In the end I guess that means the blog is for me as much as anyone else, so if no one ever reads it, I hope it will at least help me re-acquaint myself with the Holy Spirit. In fair warning, my inclination is often to defend the underdog, and to point out who is marginalized or unintentionally harmed by a message or action, and I'm guessing some posts will go that way. But hey, we need people to question and challenge so we can grow as a Church, right? (Thanks David Wells!) I'll do my best to keep the tone joyful though, because that's what really inspired me to pick up my voice and start using it again.
Also a note of thanks to Colm Leyne, Greg Thompson, and Steve Angrisano. You guys have inspired me a bunch in the last year.
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