Life at the intersection of faith, nature, history and art
My next “Faith Perspectives” column for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch appeared just in time for Christmas, a reminder (quoting Pope Francis) that “Thou Shall Not Steal” is about more than just not taking what doesn’t belong to us. You can read my column below or online here: http://bit.ly/2rQMm6U [Read more…] about In a season of giving, remember not to steal…
My next “Faith Perspectives” column for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch is a re-write of an earlier post from here back in February. Some of the details have changed but the theme hasn’t…My column went online this past Friday and was in the print edition Saturday morning. You can read my column below or online here: http://bit.ly/2PYGdQf
Kentucky novelist, poet, cultural critic and farmer Wendell Berry once entreated his readers to “Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts.”
As Catholics, that can be a tough idea to get our heads around in the current state of uncertainty and doubt surrounding the abuse scandal and the subsequent divisiveness in some quarters of the institutional Church, for it requires openness of mind and heart on our part. Like in all aspects of our lives, choosing joy requires a willingness to accept what life hands us with gratitude for what we have already received. It is, for example, looking death in the face and being thankful for life.
Choosing joy is an inclination to see the beautiful despite the ugly, and it is an invitation to see the dignity of human life despite those who would have us denigrate people and ideas we don’t agree with or understand. It is a chance to find the very best in others when all the cultural mores and signs direct us to find their faults and take advantage of them.
Perhaps especially within the Catholic Church right now, joy is a choice we must be prepared to make, even though the facts can be a bit disheartening and hope for deep and real change seems distant. Despite the facts, joy can still be found because we can still allow ourselves to be formed by our faith in Jesus Christ and his teachings of love, peace, justice, service to others, forgiveness and salvation.
Choosing joy means deciding to embrace the beauty of the church, its liturgy and traditions, and the searing truth of the Gospel while we wait for the many, many good priests and honorable leaders of the Church to find a way forward through the dark of the current moment. There have been many such moments in the history of the Church and these dark moments will not be the last. We are an imperfect church filled with imperfect people and we will continue to falter. What we must not ever be is a church that looks the other way when injustice occurs. Our foundation in the love of Christ tells us we are and must be better than that.
For me, choosing joy over the facts means continuing to seek the peace and communal unity that flows from bringing myself before the altar each week, from kneeling before my still-creating and ever-creative God, from immersing myself in words of scripture, music of worship and fellowship of other Catholics.
For there is joy to be found in the midst of our ordinary days if we only look a little harder and more closely, if we only remind ourselves more frequently to be aware of the gifts that constantly flood our lives, if we remain diligent and committed to improving the lives of those around us who are not as fortunate, if we embrace justice for all instead of prosperity for a few as the guiding principle of our faith and life.
Choosing joy is not a call to blindness, to ignoring those things we would rather not see. Rather, it is a call to see our lives and world with new and joyful eyes of faith and then set out to help bring about real change, whether serving one person or helping to reform an institution in need of healing from the inside out.
As the Catholic Church faces its future and works to rebuild the faith and trust of its faithful, we all need to ask ourselves a question: Are we standing in the right place?
My next “Faith Perspectives” column for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch went online this afternoon and will be in the print edition Saturday morning. You can read my column below or online here: http://bit.ly/wherearewestanding
In the wake of decades of horrific child sexual abuse by Catholic priests and unconscionable cover up by those in higher authority, the Catholic Church is facing a challenge even bigger than the scandal itself. It is faced with the dazed and confused voices of its own faithful asking questions like these: How could this have happened? What can be done to hold accountable those in authority? Why should I believe change is happening and is possible?
Today is my debut as a “Faith Perspectives” columnist for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. I wish this wasn’t my first column, that there was no need to write this. But I write from a place of deep faith and sadness, yet hope.
You can read my column below or see the original here: http://bit.ly/RebuildChurchGivens
I write this not as an expert but as a devoted, active Catholic layperson, a father and a grandfather, a person who loves the Church and has served in a diverse number of volunteer roles for nearly 40 years: I feel like I have been kicked in the gut and betrayed by a close friend and nobody cares enough to make the systematic kicking stop.
Pope Francis recently acknowledged the “shame and repentance” of the Catholic Church’s failure to act on decades of sexual abuse by clerics against our young people. He stated emphatically that the Church “showed no care for the little ones; we abandoned them.” Like many Catholics, I appreciate his words, but they are not enough.
Today’s the day we wait. Tucked in at the end of Holy Week, after that final meal together, after that scene in the garden, after betrayal and arrest, after trial and denial, after splinters and nails and thorns and death…we wait for something else. It’s the end of a bad week and we “just wanna feel reborn, you know?”* So we wait for the new day, for a chance to begin again.
And that’s what Easter is for. But here’s the important part. It’s not just about tomorrow. If we live for the new hope of Easter one day a year we have missed the point of everything. The hope of Easter is not just about Jesus rising from death, although that is where we begin. We begin outside of Jerusalem, huddled in a small room somewhere, hiding from and for our lives. We begin in absolute darkness, both waiting for the light of day and afraid that when it comes it might leave us exposed.