I was sitting on my couch the other day reading “The Study of Anglicanism” (long story) when I was reminded of what minor earthquakes feel like fairly far out from the epicenter. It’s been a while, I’ll give you that, but I still knew exactly what it was right away. It’s amazing how, momentarily, the ground you’re resting on feels like nothing less than Jell-O.
I apologize for not having written anything recently, O fictional audience of mine. But, really, I’ve been pretty boring. I’ve been watching a lot of Star Trek: Voyager. I like to pretend I’m a character on the show. Not Seven of Nine though – her outfit’s a little too conservative, don’t ya think?
At Bible Camp, we once put on a skit that was set on the bridge of a Star Trek ship. I can’t remember exactly how, but it was somehow religious.
Anyway, my couch and me have been pretty tight lately. This may or may not be related to the fact that my favorite pants have recently informed me I’m getting too fat for them. Unfortunately, this truth coincides with the fact that summer is ice cream season. It’s difficult to say who will win out, but I’m confident we’ll all come to an understanding eventually.
Thus has been my life. Oh, I’m ‘preaching’ on Sunday, if that’s what you call it. I think I might specialize in taking cheap shots at the gospel.
Happy St. Jean to all of you out there. It certainly is a break from Numbers, if not a celebration of our independent nationhood. Maybe we’ll all take a lesson from those people who challenged Moses’ authority and tried to steal the priests’ job whom God smote?
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Padre Pio Et. Al.
On Sunday I went to my old parish to see an Italian film about the life of Padre Pio, a Saint probably most famous for his Stigmata. He's quite inspiring. But that's not what I'm going to write about.
Over a decade ago, I attended the ordination of a young man, Father T. Some time later, he was assigned to the church across the street, so I had numerous occasions to see him in his ministry. He is a good priest, and as we watched his congregation change that became ever clearer. I had him pegged as an excellent bishop in the future (he was trilingual, and who knows how far the Italian he learned so well could have taken him, politically?). He was well positioned to climb the ecclesiastical ladder, and he seemed to be a good pastor.
Anyway, he's been really sick. But I found out on Sunday that he intends to leave the priesthood.
I think that's always a shocking thing to hear. In the deepest sense, it isn't even possible: once you've been ordained, there's no going back, and you're a priest forever. I can't begin to imagine what it feels like. There must be such a sense of defeat, in a way, that you can't follow on the path you've chosen. What are you admitting to yourself? Does it mean you have to admit you never had a vocation? I think that's simplistic. God doesn't lead you through it for nothing, nor does the Church call and endorse you without reason. They also don't release you into laicisation without grave reason. Transitioning out of the priesthood bespeaks great inner torment. To be released from your vows is no easy thing...I think probably even harder than taking them in the first place.
Who can know what God wants with certainty? I do know how difficult listening to God can be. That He speaks and what He says can cause great turmoil in the heart, and also a great deal of doubt (ironically). As I continue my journey, I better understand what it means to be faced with the certainty that the life I once planned is no longer possible, that the people and community I believed I would be with forever can no longer be my home. I understand what it's like to give up things I have cherished and that were comfortable in search of something I don't understand; to choose uncertainty and doubt. I know what it feels like to disappoint the people who wish everything could stay the same. Still, I can't pretend to know what he's feeling. It really makes you stop and see that, when it comes to relationship with God, nothing is certain except that He loves you.
And sometimes the form that love takes is painful and complicated, heartbroken, and full of doubt.
Over a decade ago, I attended the ordination of a young man, Father T. Some time later, he was assigned to the church across the street, so I had numerous occasions to see him in his ministry. He is a good priest, and as we watched his congregation change that became ever clearer. I had him pegged as an excellent bishop in the future (he was trilingual, and who knows how far the Italian he learned so well could have taken him, politically?). He was well positioned to climb the ecclesiastical ladder, and he seemed to be a good pastor.
Anyway, he's been really sick. But I found out on Sunday that he intends to leave the priesthood.
I think that's always a shocking thing to hear. In the deepest sense, it isn't even possible: once you've been ordained, there's no going back, and you're a priest forever. I can't begin to imagine what it feels like. There must be such a sense of defeat, in a way, that you can't follow on the path you've chosen. What are you admitting to yourself? Does it mean you have to admit you never had a vocation? I think that's simplistic. God doesn't lead you through it for nothing, nor does the Church call and endorse you without reason. They also don't release you into laicisation without grave reason. Transitioning out of the priesthood bespeaks great inner torment. To be released from your vows is no easy thing...I think probably even harder than taking them in the first place.
Who can know what God wants with certainty? I do know how difficult listening to God can be. That He speaks and what He says can cause great turmoil in the heart, and also a great deal of doubt (ironically). As I continue my journey, I better understand what it means to be faced with the certainty that the life I once planned is no longer possible, that the people and community I believed I would be with forever can no longer be my home. I understand what it's like to give up things I have cherished and that were comfortable in search of something I don't understand; to choose uncertainty and doubt. I know what it feels like to disappoint the people who wish everything could stay the same. Still, I can't pretend to know what he's feeling. It really makes you stop and see that, when it comes to relationship with God, nothing is certain except that He loves you.
And sometimes the form that love takes is painful and complicated, heartbroken, and full of doubt.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The Case Of The Missing Church Service
I like to choose my church services based on the sign; not that I look for particularly flashy or inventive signs or anything – I check the times of the services written on a given sign and go from there. I like to pick services that mesh well with the AMT train schedule. So yes, if you must know, the transit commission for the greater Montreal region (or whoever) is, indeed, directing my spiritual life.
Today I wanted to go to the 12:15 service at a downtown church I haven’t been to in years. Time-wise, it’s within sprinting distance of a train that gets me there in the nick of time. Pretty convenient, eh?
So anyway, the train was late and I was a bit worried but, as I said, sprinting distance. I got there about three minutes before what should have been the start of Mass. Should have been because there was, in fact, no service that I could find. The hunt is now on for the missing service, which the sign tells me surely should have occurred.
The Gazette tells me in its religion calendar (which I read every week) that there should have been a service with a discussion following it. But I’m telling you I could find no such service! Was it relocated somewhere within the church, like a secret location known only to true initiates? If so, why would they advertise in the local paper? I went in the main door, checked out both side chapels, and saw nothing. Perhaps I should have looked for hidden entrances in other parts of the building?
If the service was hidden in a new secret location, and yet still open to the general public – including miscreants who wander in off the street because they’ve seen the sign – why did the church not contain clear directions on how to find said secret chamber?
Curiouser and curiouser.
The events calendar on the church's website tells me the service should have taken place in one of the chapels at 12:15, as it said on the sign. But both chapels were spectacularly empty at said time. In fact, nothing was set out that would even indicate there was to be a service. Perhaps the service was kidnapped? I saw no evidence of other foul play: no obvious signs of violent struggle, no clues of any kind, really.
This case is turning out to be particularly hard to crack.
The calendar of events, also on the website, tells me that there is an informal Eucharist at that time, and refers to another informal prayer as taking place in the treasurer’s office, wherever that is. There is also lunch and teaching. Perhaps they have Eucharist in the dining hall, wherever that is? This is all a moot point, because weekday Mass can’t be in the chapel, hall, and office all at the same time (though that would be pretty Trinitarian).
I thought for a moment that perhaps the service did not exist during the summer months, but there’s nothing anywhere on the website or elsewhere to justify that suspicion. Anyway, I can tell you I’m pretty disappointed that I couldn’t catch a service today. I woke up early and everything! I’m also worried that something terrible might have happened to it to make it miss out on itself. I mean, what kind of a service does that if not for a grave and serious reason? Without leaving any notice?
I just can’t fathom what happened to this missing service. If anyone has any information about this or any other unsolved crime, feel free to contact us through this blog.
Today I wanted to go to the 12:15 service at a downtown church I haven’t been to in years. Time-wise, it’s within sprinting distance of a train that gets me there in the nick of time. Pretty convenient, eh?
So anyway, the train was late and I was a bit worried but, as I said, sprinting distance. I got there about three minutes before what should have been the start of Mass. Should have been because there was, in fact, no service that I could find. The hunt is now on for the missing service, which the sign tells me surely should have occurred.
The Gazette tells me in its religion calendar (which I read every week) that there should have been a service with a discussion following it. But I’m telling you I could find no such service! Was it relocated somewhere within the church, like a secret location known only to true initiates? If so, why would they advertise in the local paper? I went in the main door, checked out both side chapels, and saw nothing. Perhaps I should have looked for hidden entrances in other parts of the building?
If the service was hidden in a new secret location, and yet still open to the general public – including miscreants who wander in off the street because they’ve seen the sign – why did the church not contain clear directions on how to find said secret chamber?
Curiouser and curiouser.
The events calendar on the church's website tells me the service should have taken place in one of the chapels at 12:15, as it said on the sign. But both chapels were spectacularly empty at said time. In fact, nothing was set out that would even indicate there was to be a service. Perhaps the service was kidnapped? I saw no evidence of other foul play: no obvious signs of violent struggle, no clues of any kind, really.
This case is turning out to be particularly hard to crack.
The calendar of events, also on the website, tells me that there is an informal Eucharist at that time, and refers to another informal prayer as taking place in the treasurer’s office, wherever that is. There is also lunch and teaching. Perhaps they have Eucharist in the dining hall, wherever that is? This is all a moot point, because weekday Mass can’t be in the chapel, hall, and office all at the same time (though that would be pretty Trinitarian).
I thought for a moment that perhaps the service did not exist during the summer months, but there’s nothing anywhere on the website or elsewhere to justify that suspicion. Anyway, I can tell you I’m pretty disappointed that I couldn’t catch a service today. I woke up early and everything! I’m also worried that something terrible might have happened to it to make it miss out on itself. I mean, what kind of a service does that if not for a grave and serious reason? Without leaving any notice?
I just can’t fathom what happened to this missing service. If anyone has any information about this or any other unsolved crime, feel free to contact us through this blog.
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