Take the Long Way Home

These are the prayers that Mother Teresa asks her lay co-workers to pray daily.  So simple, yet so full of meaning.  Do you think they would be considered “vain repition” if I were to pray them daily?  Do you think God would turn his ear away from these words since they are not spontaneous expressions of my own?  Just wondering, because I’m gonna take that chance.  If and when I can express myself better than this, I’ll come up with my own words.  In the meantime…

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace, that where there is hatred I may bring love; that where there is wrong, I may bring the spirit of forgiveness; that where there is discord, I may bring harmony; that where there is error, I may bring truth; that where there is doubt, I may bring faith; that where there is despair, I may bring hope; that where there are shadows, I may bring light; that where there is sadness, joy.  Lord, grant that I may seek rather to comfort, than to be comforted; to understand than to be understood; to love than be loved, for it is by forgetting self that one finds; it is by dying that one awakens to eternal life.              - St. Francis of Assisi

Make us worthy, Lord, to serve our fellow men throughout the world who live an die in poverty and hunger.  Give them, through our hands, this day their daily bread; and by our understanding love, give peace and joy.                                                                      - Pope Paul VI

Every quarter my fifth grader is required to write a book report on a book that he would never choose to read himself. He’s a reluctant reader (although that’s changing a bit), and the level of books that are forced upon him make the task that much more difficult. So, quite often I read the books to him. He gets the information (it’s amazing how much more he gets out of a book read to him than he does from one he reads himself, but that’s a whole ‘nother topic!) and there is much less exasperation on my part. It’s all ultimately about me anyway, right??? Don’t answer that please!

Back to the book report… This quarter the book is any book on a Saint. My son is not all that interested in Saints (unless you count the New Orleans Saints, but I don’t think that’s what the curriculum had in mind). I tried to make St. Francis sound interesting, but all the book descriptions make the Saints sound pretty boring to young boys. In the end I looked at my own bookshelf and found a biography of Saint Teresa that I decided he was going to use. With the bargaining chip of me reading it to him he agreed. Now that we are into the book he’s actually enjoying it quite a bit. I, on the other hand, am amazed by it.

One thing that has gotten my attention is the attitude of the Catholic Missionaries of Charity towards conversion of their fellow Indians. Conversion is not one of their aims. This seems strange to me. I’m only talking about my own personal experience here, not any creed of Protestants, but whenever I was involved with church charity work, mission trips, etc. conversion was the main aim. We might be diagnosing illness or passing out medicine. We might be helping with building projects. We might have been tutoring urban students. But at the heart of all these activities was the ultimate aim of converting these people to Christianity. We offered them tutoring because it was a way to get them in the church. In fact, immediately after the tutoring session there was a Bible Study. I’m sure not all of the students stayed for this, and surely it wasn’t required, but the hope was that these kids would stay. When I went on mission trips to Latin America we intentionally tried to convince Catholics of the error of their ways and wanted them to join “our” church. We argued the validity of Christianity over those with Hindu beliefs. When I went to Britain we targeted Muslims with the intention of conversion.

Now, I’m not suggesting that this is bad. It’s good to want people to become Christians. This was Jesus’ last instruction to the Apostles, “Go out into all nations, baptizing…”  But I ran into a phenomenon - when people wanted money (for good things mind you) they would “fake” conversion because they thought this would get them what they needed. If a man had a sick wife, he would feign conversion because he thought this would enable him to get money for the hospital. I can only assume that this was based on some sort of precedent. Why would people do this if the money was available to all equally?  I also saw lonely young girls feign conversion because they wanted to be accepted, wanted to be a part of something.  Maybe they didn’t feel truly welcome and so they faked it.  I can’t say anything definite because I was there on a missionary effort, not there all the time. 

I never questioned any of this. In fact I advocated it. I personally believed that any charity work was futile if the people you were ministering to were going to hell! Without conversion their physical healing was pointless. It wasn’t that I advocated not trying to help people who weren’t Christians, but I would have considered the work a failure if the people being helped weren’t converted by the efforts.  It was not enough to advocate being a better person, being a better Hindu, being a better Muslim.  It was not enough to love just for love’s sake.  I didn’t look at the poor as Jesus in disguise.   Of course, I live in suburban America.  I have to go pretty far to find real poverty.  But I firmly believed that most of the people on the street corners with those signs - Will Work for Food - were scam artists.  Those people that slept on park benches downtown?  They were drug addicts who should kick the habit and get a job!  Single mothers on welfare?  Well, they should get off their lazy butts and get a job and quit taking all my hard earned tax dollars!  Yes, I was one of “those people”.  I was hard and cold and unforgiving.  But I didn’t know it.  Mother Teresa is the one who told me, she is the one who woke me up to what I really was.

When the Missionaries of Charity went out into the streets of Calcutta they didn’t have conversion of anyone other than themselves in mind.  M. Teresa firmly believed that each and every suffering person she met was “Jesus in distressing disguise”.  When a Hindu died in her house for the dying he was taken to the Hindu temple for a proper Hindu burial.  Same for the Muslims that she helped.  She didn’t try to convert them on their deathbeds.  And this is what saved her order.  India at that time was a dangerous place to live.  There were battles in the streets between warring factions - basically boiling down to Hindu vs Muslim.  There were few Christians in Calcutta.  The Missionaries went out every day and ministered to people in different quarters of the city, both Hindu and Muslim.  At first there was a huge outcry against her because it was assumed that she was converting these folks to Christianity.  It was assumed that the Missionaries were baptizing the babies they took in, it was assumed that they were spiriting away the dying to Christian burial.  But it was untrue.  The Missionaries did not baptize the babies, and whenever they could they turned those babies over to those who would adopt them - Hindu babies to Hindu parents and Muslim to Muslim.  When it became well known that the Missionaries did not convert then they became safe in a city where no one else was safe.  Even the gangsters left her alone.  She and her sisters were truly Missionaries of Charity (love). 

This idea of helping people, of loving people, but not converting them is a very new idea to me.  I have a hard time with it.  But, ultimately I think it’s “what Jesus would do”.  Jesus didn’t confine his healings or his dealings to acceptable persons.   Did Jesus have ulterior motives, however good, when He healed someone?  M. Teresa made sure that the sick and dying of Calcutta didn’t die alone.  That they didn’t die unloved.  I think this is the sign of true Christianity - that we love all unconditionally.  That we love all sacrificially.  That we love.  This is a hard lesson.

I know I said  was going to blog twice a week at a minimum and I’m kinda falling short on that, but I have good excuses - swear!

For my birthday I bought myself the Lord of the Rings trilogy on audio.  How can I be expected to blog when the Urak-Hai have Merry and Pippin!

Oh, and there is also the little detail of two, yes two, of my posts being eaten by cyberspace.  But I’m trying, okay?

The other night a documentary came on PBS that I could’nt miss - it was on Mormonism.  I have a soft spot for Mormons.  They send those sweet little boys around to your house and ask if there is anything they can do for you.  Of course usually it’s me that does for them.  How can you turn them away?  They aren’t allowed to see their own mothers for two years!  They are only allowed to talk to them twice a year!  How can any mother of boys not invite them in for a drink of lemonade (it’s pretty hot where I live), or for supper?  Or buy them Christmas presents?  Okay, maybe I have gone a little overboard at times, but they break my heart.  I know that they are there to “convert” me, but I hope that they leave my city knowing that there is such a thing as a Catholic that loves God, and loves them. 

Anyway, back to the documentary…  I was curious about how PBS would present it.  Would they be cynical and mocking?  Would they include any evangelical balance, or only present it from the Mormon perspective?  I was quite impressed with it.  It felt as though they were trying to give it a fair shake.  There was a little history that they left out, and they didn’t delve very deep into Mormon theology, but overall it was a positive portrayal (I was pleased by this because I kept thinking, what would a documentary on Catholicism look like if done by PBS?  If they did it this way, I would be satisfied.  They wouldn’t have gotten it all right, but maybe they wouldn’t have gotten it all wrong either.).  One thing that I was moved by was some of the Mormon members recollections of “experiences” with God.  I have always been very cynical when it comes to religious experience.  In becoming Catholic I have had to expand my boundaries a bit.  I have become a bit more tolerant of “experience”, but I have certain lines that I refuse to cross and I’m happy to say that Catholicism has the same lines.  But I’m getting ahead of myself… 

In my limited exposure to Mormonism it seems to me that experience plays a big part in their faith.  I have been told by those sweet little Mormon missionaries that if I read the Book of Mormon the Spirit will let me know that it is true.  They insist that I will feel a “burning in the bosom” as I read.  They tell me of their own experiences, their “testimonies”, that are a huge part of the faith.  Mormons don’t go to “church”, they meet together on Sunday and listen to different folks giving their “testimonies”.  They share their “experiences” with each other as encourangement.  I’ve heard some ex Mormon’s say that it’s like peer pressure, if you don’t have a great testimony to share about how great God is and how much evidence there is that He is working in you that they felt the need to make stuff up, or not share any sufferings or trials they were going through.  It seems to me (looking in from the outside) that experience is everything to them.  The main tenets of their faith are built around the idea of revelation from God.  Ongoing revelation.  While we Catholics are restricted to the revelation of Christ and the revelation given to the original Apostles, the Mormon’s have modern revelation.  At least initially, this revelation took the form of visions.  Joseph Smith had visions of God where God told him what to believe.  Later, I’m not sure that these revelations were visions, but Joseph Smith believed that God spoke to Him.  It’s this idea of God speaking in visions that I want to focus on. 

There is plenty of evidence from Scripture that God does indeed speak to people in visions (no matter  how uncomfortable I am with that!).  In converting to Catholicism I had to come to grips with people today who have visions.  Our Lady of Guadeloupe, Our Lady of Lourdes, Fatima, and don’t forget Padre Pio.  There’s the Immaculate Heart and the Divine Mercy.  Visions all!  So what makes these visions different from those of Joseph Smith?  How can I believe that God spoke to Saint Bernadette, but not to Joseph Smith?  The difference I believe is in the role of these visions.  For Joseph Smith the vision established a new religion (even if you believe that God was restoring an old religion, you have to accept that the revelations continued to change and evolve, establishing a set of principles and then revoking the same set while establishing a new set and on and on).  The visions and later revelations related to the core of the faith, they set the tenets of the faith.  They were establishing principles - I think it’s fair to say that the Mormon religion was founded on these visions.  While Catholic visions do not deal with the tenets of the faith.  They are not for the changing of doctrine or dogma.  In fact, if the vision suggests a change, then the vision is automatically declared not from God!  To be accepted by the Church, the vision must conform to dogma, not the other way around.  There is no such thing as “new revelation”, not in the same sense as the Mormon understanding.  When a Mormon prophet gets a revelation then a change or clarification on doctrine is immediate (I don’t mean it’s accomplished in 15 minutes, but it is imminent - Joseph Smith received a revelation about polygamy and it took him awhile to incorporate it but it happened within his lifetime.  When Brigham Young received the revelation telling him that polygamy was no longer appropriate, it too was incorporated within a short period of time.).  While after a Catholic vision much time passes before the Church will officially rule on whether they think it’s “valid” or not.  The reason behind this is the Church wants time to investigate.  They want to investigate the vision itself, the person having the vision, but most importantly they want to see what kind of fruit comes from the vision.  For a vision to be declared “valid” (or whatever the official terminology is) it must conform to Church dogma, and it must produce good fruit.  It takes a long time to see fruit, decades and decades sometimes.  And even when the Church makes her official pronouncement, it’s still considered to be a private revelation.  It’s  not binding on the Church as a whole.  All she says is that there is no harm in believing the vision, no harm in practicing whatever devotion it suggests.  But as a Catholic you don’t have to pay any attention to the vision at all! 

This does a cynical heart good to hear.  Although I’m coming around on believing in these things, I’m glad to know that my “authority” is not going to make any decisions based upon someone’s visions! 

I’m currently very fascinated with Mother Theresa.  I think it has to do with the fact that I dismissed her so easily when I was a prot.  Another reason, which I refuse to discuss, is because of something that happened to me that I described in a previous post.  I have kept myself from posting every quote from her that I find profound because, well because I would have to post every day nothing but Mother Theresa quotes!!!  But I couldn’t resist this one (and I’m sure there will be plenty of others). 

“Give me light - Send me Thy own Spirit - which will teach me Thy own Will - which will give me strength to do the things that are pleasing to Thee.  Jesus, My Jesus, don’t let me be deceived - if it is you who want this, give proof of it, if not let it leave my soul - I trust you blindly - will you let my soul be lost?  I am so afraid Jesus - I am so terribly afraid - let me not be deceived - I am so afraid.  This fear shows me how much I love myself - I am afraid of the suffering that will come…. never having anything my way.  How much comfort has taken possession of my heart.”

When I was in college I was ridiculed for believing in God. The ironic part of this was that I didn’t live a “Christian” life, didn’t impose any kind of belief system on anyone else, so I don’t know why they cared. Why would my friends, and my professors feel the need to convince me of the absurdity of believing in any kind of divine being? I can’t answer that question, but the truth remains - they tried very hard to convince me to give up my faith in God. I looked for reasons to hang onto my faith (it seems strange to even call it “faith”, it was more like a comfortable belief that I’d had since childhood). I asked my Christian friends about why they believed, what defenses they had, etc. I wish I could say that I got answers. The truth is they didn’t have any. They had that same comfortable belief, the reliance on anectdotal promises, that seem to crumble at the feet of my “other” friends challenges. Was there a reasonable basis for belief in God? Was it all a matter of “faith”? That seemed to be the most common answer to my questions - “you must have faith”.  Faith in what?  If there is no rational basis for faith, doesn’t it just become wishing, make believe? How do you answer the legitimate questions from challengers? I finally found friends who could help me. Only, they weren’t the flesh and blood type of friends, they were long dead, but they had left me their thoughts in books. I fell in love with Francis Schaeffer, and through D.A. Carson, others who had thought through these issues. Then when I became Catholic and found Thomas Aquinas, J.H. Cardinal Newman (among many, many others), oh wow! I thought I’d died and gone to heaven! None of these questions were new, people had been asking these same questions for centuries!  The problem I have now is that the average Christian isn’t all that familiar with the finer points of say, Aquinas, and if I happen to bring one up I usually get challenged by the very people I worked so hard to stay a part of!!! It seems most people are happier with plattitudes and anectodotes about God then what the greatest minds God has created have to say about Him. The irony of this really gets to me. It’s enough to make one want to climb into a cave and be a hermit - I think I understand those guys now. It seems no matter where I go, I will be challenged.  Why is this?

One of the first questions asked of me from my reformed brethren when they hear about my conversion to Catholicism is about the Eucharist.  “So, do you really believe that the bread and wine is actually Jesus’ body and blood?”  Interestingly, the reformed faith essentially defines the Lord’s Supper in negative terms.  They don’t just define what it is, they define what it is not.  According to the  Westminster Confession of Faith (http://www.reformed.org/documents/wcf_with_proofs/)  - whose catechism I had to memorize as a child btw – the Lord’s supper is NOT:

A sacrifice

To include adoration of the elements

Transubstantiation or consubstantiation

To be taken to those not able to attend the service

Able to take away sin

In fact transubstantiation is said to be repugnant to Scripture, common sense, and reason. That’s really what I want to talk about.   As far as Scripture goes, I think a cursory reading of John 6 is all that is needed (if Jesus is speaking symbolically about his body being eaten then he must have been referring to his crucifixion symbolically also – you can’t have it both ways!) “My flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.”  But this is not really what the reformers argue with, they argue that no matter how much is seems that Jesus is speaking literally he can’t be because it defies reason.  But does it?  I was taught that transubstantiation was impossible because Jesus is in heaven (with his human body, remember) and he can’t be in more than one place at one time.  He can’t be in heaven, at the right hand of God, and on the altar at the same time. 

When I have questioned other Catholics about this philosophical dilemma, I invariably get the same answer – “that’s ridiculous, of course Jesus can be in more than one place at one time, he is God!”

I was happy to find that Thomas Aquinas doesn’t dismiss the question at all, in fact he agrees with me – Jesus cannot be in more than one place at the same time.  He deals with this apparent dilemma in his Summa Theologica.  Some years later at the Council of Trent the matter was put to rest when the Church officially took Aquinas’ position on the Eucharist.  In fact in the document of Trent is mentioned this “problem” of Jesus being in two places at once.  The council members didn’t say, “hey, the prots are being stupid, of course Jesus can be in two places at once.”  They acknowledged the seeming contradiction and impossibility of his human body being in more than one place at once and said that the problem was solved by Aquinas’ explanation of Jesus being “sacramentally” present  as well as “substantially” present, but not present in such a way as would be repugnant to his natural mode of existing.  So, what in the world does that mean?

To dialogue with Aquinas you need some definitions, so let’s start there.  He uses words that are not that familiar to most of us: substance, accidents, place, conversion, etc.  Now, I’m no expert and I’m sure that there is fault to be found in the way that I understand these terms, but give me a break, okay? 

Substance – this is basically the essence of something.  Take my desk for instance. 

Accidents – this is what something is made up of.  Take my desk again – wood and metal screws.  In the natural world, under natural causes, my desk can’t really be my desk anymore if you take away the wood and metal screws.  But think outside the box for a minute. Separate in your mind my desk (substance) from wood and metal (accidents).  The “deskness” of my desk can be thought of apart from what it’s made of.  This is the substance of my desk.

Conversion – we usually think of this as change (and usually in a spiritual sense), but Scholastically speaking conversion is different than change.  Conversion is more than change.  Conversion is the complete transition from one thing to another. For example when Jesus converted the water into wine – water was completely transformed into wine. One thing made totally into another thing (don’t you just love how scientific my terminology is?).  Both it’s substance and it’s accidents were converted (there is no ‘creation’ involved because the elements already exist). And this is where Transubstantiation starts to get sticky, because we can imagine total conversion – water becomes wine.  We get that it doesn’t happen naturally, but supernaturally, yet it’s still an easy thing to grasp.  But in transubstantiation the substance of bread and wine are converted into the substance of Christ’s body, blood, soul, and divinity, but the accidents are not so converted.  The accidents of bread remain (wheat and water), but the substance has changed.  “Bread” is gone, but wheat and water remain.  “Jesus” is now substantially present (his accidents are also present in a certain manner of speaking because of the natural combo of these things – but honestly, this is soooo over my head that I’m not going there other than just to state that it is so).  Again, this doesn’t happen naturally, but supernaturally.   God supernaturally converts the substance of bread into the substance of Jesus, but allows the accidents of wheat and water to remain (divorced from their substance).

Place is another tricky definition.  Matter can’t exist in more than one place at the same time.  My desk can’t be in my bedroom and also in my living room.  So how can Jesus (whose glorified human body is made up of matter – and don’t discount the importance of this – Jesus’ body must be a true body in all aspects or the Church’s definitions of his human nature become mixed up with previous heresies) be at the right hand of the Father in heaven (which Scripture tells us he is) and on the altar at the same time?  Aquinas tells us in the answer to objection 3 in question 75, article 1 (I can’t explain this in any other way but to quote him)

Reply to Objection 3. Christ’s body is not in this sacrament in the same way as a body is in a place, which by its dimensions is commensurate with the place; but in a special manner which is proper to this sacrament. Hence we say that Christ’s body is upon many altars, not as in different places, but “sacramentally”: and thereby we do not understand that Christ is there only as in a sign, although a sacrament is a kind of sign; but that Christ’s body is here after a fashion proper to this sacrament, as stated above.

I unfortunately can’t find a clearer definition of what he means here by “sacramentally” present. The Council of Trent uses the same terminology:

CHAPTER I
THE REAL PRESENCE OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST IN THE MOST HOLY SACRAMENT OF THE EUCHARIST

First of all, the holy council teaches and openly and plainly professes that after the consecration of bread and wine, our Lord Jesus Christ, true God and true man, is truly, really and substantially contained in the august sacrament of the Holy Eucharist under the appearance of those sensible things. For there is no repugnance in this that our Savior sits always at the right hand of the Father in heaven[3] according to the natural mode of existing, and yet is in many other places sacramentally present to us in His own substance by a manner of existence which, though we can scarcely express in words, yet with our understanding illumined by faith, we can conceive and ought most firmly to believe ispossible to God.[4]

Soooo, Jesus is present in substance under the accidents of wheat and water, but not in a way that violates his very real, very true human nature.  I’ll never completely understand what this means, but I’m glad that the Church took the time to reason it out for me – just one of aspects that I love about my mother – the Church.  She never tells that I’m overthinking an issue, or that I lack faith.  She entertains my questions, takes me seriously, and does the best she can to answer in a way that encompasses both faith and reason.  I love my mama!

I’m a bit of a perfectionist.  While you might think this means that everything I do is perfect (like my house is always clean and I’m always on the ball with my homeschooling), it often means just the opposite.  Because I want things to be perfect, I avoid attempting things that I know won’t turn out perfect.  Like my house - if I don’t have enough time and energy to do a thorough cleaning, I do nothing.  Eventually someone (me or my husband) finally says, Enough already! and starts cleaning.  Because I know this about myself I try to remind myself that it doesn’t matter if it all gets done, just do part of it.  A clean kitchen and messy family room is better than a messy kitchen AND a messy family room.  This also applies to blogging….  I love my blog, but I hesitate to come here because I want to work through the perfect post before I hit publish.  I want it to be something worth coming back to read later, something that I have researched and can defend to possible commenters (those of you that read my sporadic blogging will find this funny because I don’t get many comments!), I want it to be something that is “important’.  But what this really accomplishes is that I never blog!  I never really work out what I might be thinking through because it’s not polished.  I’ve tried a couple times to come here and just post random thoughts that I think I’ll come back and work through, but even this is very sporadic.  Well, I’ve made a Lenten resolution - I”m going to come here at least a couple times a week, even if I have nothing to say.  You might be wondering what  in the world that resolution has to do with Lent, but for me it is a mortification.  In fact, probably the most mortifying thing I can think of.  To put myself in front of others with nothing to say.   

So I’m asking forgiveness up front - forgive me if you come by and I’m rambling on about nothing, I’m trying to form the habit of blogging more consistently.  I’m not sure what in the world will come out, but I’m hoping it will allow me to take the time to think out loud.  I’ll also ask forgiveness from those of you from the Spitfire Grill because I plan to shamelessly carry on conversations with myself that started there.  Forgive me if I quote you without your permission.  

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday and a fast day.  In the Western rite, and especially in America, we have very few restrictions.  Simply, no meat, and only one full meal with a couple of snacks.  How hard is that? 

Apparently, for me, it’s very hard.  I am constantly amazed at how soft I am.  I am so incredibly spoiled that to miss, what for me, is essentially one meal (I’m not a big breakfast eater) is nie unto impossible.  I was miserable all day.  All I could think about was how hungry I was.  And I couldn’t have been that hungry!  I ate my two snacks, and ate my full meal at 4:45, because I just couldn’t wait any longer.  What bugged me all day was the knowledge that it’s not that unusual for me to get really busy and forget to eat.  I can be involved in a project or out shopping and not eat all day because I just plain don’t think about it.   But then I went to Mass and began to think about something else entirely…

We were handed little packages as we walked into the door, and as we got there pretty early I had some time in the pew before Mass started to look at what it was (yes, I spent some time in prayer when I first got into the pew, don’t completely throw me over just because I’m lazy and spoiled and can’t fast properly; we were really early!)  They were for Operation Rice Bowl.  While my son put together the little folding “bowl”, I read this…

“When we fast, we act in solidarity with the hungry around the world.”

It never once occured to me, all day, to think about the poor.  It never once occured to me that people all over the world are hungry all the time, every day.  I only thought of myself.  I resolved to add one more little thing to my lenten routine - one meal a week will be of the very simple variety - a reminder to us that we live in luxury compared to the rest of the world (one of those lessons I keep forgetting because I spend too much time looking around me at how much more luxurious my neighbors are than I am), and a reminder that those people need our prayers, and our money, and maybe even our time.