What does it mean to be Catholic but not Roman Catholic? This is a question that many at Spirit of Grace are contemplating since the local archbishop has forbidden any Catholic priest from saying Mass at Spirit of Grace, which up until December 10th, 2023 was possibly the only Catholic-Lutheran ecumenical community of its kind. Both Catholics and Lutherans have worshiped together here for the last 37 years. And now, the Catholic side of the community is being forced to either attend a local Catholic church by decree of the archbishop or stay with the church community they have known and loved and have made their spiritual home, the latter of which is an act of rebellion against the archbishop.
So what does it mean to be Catholic?
As most Christians know, the word itself comes from a Greek word meaning 'universal.' It means that, in the words of St. Ignatius of Antioch, "wherever Jesus is present, we have the Catholic Church." And this idea of universalism is most explicitly stated by Paul in Galatians 3:28: "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free person, there is not male and female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Catholic, therefore, means unity, communion, community, a kin-dom where all who are baptized, love God, and love their neighbour are invited and welcomed. And for me, Spirit of Grace has been a warm, welcoming community that, in its own small way, represents the open arms of the universal Church.
Of course, on the tree of the universal Church are many branches, each with their own history and culture and traditions that one should respect. And many of those branches don't see eye to eye with the others. Nevertheless, we are all created in the image of God (Gen 1:26-27), and despite our failings and frailties and stubbornness, in God's promise to Abraham and his descendents, the world will be blessed and reunited with God (Gen 22:15-18). And the life and teachings of Jesus connect many of us to that tradition and that promise. Jesus invites us to take this promise seriously and be participants in it, not just spectators. But Jesus was oftentimes rebellious, breaking religious rules and challenging the authority of both religious and political leaders when they strayed from loving God and loving their neighbour as themselves. And should we not follow Jesus and his example?
The local archbishop has put an official end to this ecumenical partnership by forbidding Catholic priests from saying mass at Spirit of Grace and ordering its Catholic parishioners to go elsewhere in his discernment of "the needs of the Catholic faithful of the Archdiocese, the key principles governing the sacred liturgy, and how best to promote Christian unity." But I fail to see how splitting up this ecumenical community of almost four decades does anything to help promote Christian unity, nor do I see a reason to seek out another church and community when this one has been so welcoming and supportive and has become my home.
The Catholic priest who baptized me and welcomed me into the Catholic Church once said, "If Jesus calls you to the table, who am I to turn you away?" And every person, regardless of who they are or where they come from, is invited and welcomed at God's table; so everyone at that table is part of the universal Church—hence wherever Jesus is present, we have the Catholic Church. My Catholic identity, then, is based on wherever I find Jesus. And Jesus is not absent from Spirit of Grace.
Sunday, January 21, 2024
Friday, January 12, 2024
1/12/24
I started reading the Bible all the way through with The Magnificast discord group and a question came up about how to view some of the more difficult passages while still being faithful to one's religious tradition and not anachronistically insert one's personal preferences and values into those texts. It got me thinking about my own approach.
Coming from a non-religious background and growing into a perennialist, my approach is to treat sacred texts on a whole as historical, mythological, and mystical texts. I see in them stories used to express certain ideas, point in certain directions, and provide certain justifications for what was happening in the present.
From the historical POV, I see some of their culture and beliefs and what they were trying to do and say in a particular period in time, which was often the voice of a certain priestly caste that had authority or which became an authority. I see them as they see themselves. From the mythological POV, I see some of their explanations for the hows and whys, the logic underlying their particular religious beliefs and practices, as well as justifications for them. I see their expressions of the connection between the divine and us. And in the mystical, I see the deeper underlying threads, the places where people have touched or glimpsed ultimate reality, where God is heard most clearly. And in all of these texts, including the Torah, there are multiple voices all weaved together presenting a tapestry of thousands of years of culture, history, and evolving thoughts as people deal with the contradictions they face, finding new syntheses and ways through into new ideas and experiences and contradictions.
I see a dialectical relationship. And these texts are all of these things presented to us in a relatively linear narrative meant to preserve the past, remind the present, and inspire the future. In all of these texts, from every religious tradition, there are difficult things, ugly things, that are hard to reconcile with the beautiful parts. But they reflect us and what we're struggling with and trying to overcome as human beings, what some call our sinful nature, our shadow self, or what others would call the poisons of greed, hatred, and delusion. So of course, in our attempts to reach towards the divine or be touched by it, we make mistakes and misunderstand and even do harm in the name of the good. And even though these texts may be inspired by God and contain truth, they're written by people that know both good and evil, who speak both truth and lies, who have their own agendas and desires which aren't necessarily pointing towards God but to their own worldly power and control.
These texts and our relationship to them are rich and complicated, and I feel comfortable finding in them what touches me and help nurtures/deepens my 'theology' without necessarily forcing my theology into them and vice versa. I accept them and learn from them, but I'm also far removed from many of these times and places and certain things may not be as relevant as they once were.
Coming from a non-religious background and growing into a perennialist, my approach is to treat sacred texts on a whole as historical, mythological, and mystical texts. I see in them stories used to express certain ideas, point in certain directions, and provide certain justifications for what was happening in the present.
From the historical POV, I see some of their culture and beliefs and what they were trying to do and say in a particular period in time, which was often the voice of a certain priestly caste that had authority or which became an authority. I see them as they see themselves. From the mythological POV, I see some of their explanations for the hows and whys, the logic underlying their particular religious beliefs and practices, as well as justifications for them. I see their expressions of the connection between the divine and us. And in the mystical, I see the deeper underlying threads, the places where people have touched or glimpsed ultimate reality, where God is heard most clearly. And in all of these texts, including the Torah, there are multiple voices all weaved together presenting a tapestry of thousands of years of culture, history, and evolving thoughts as people deal with the contradictions they face, finding new syntheses and ways through into new ideas and experiences and contradictions.
I see a dialectical relationship. And these texts are all of these things presented to us in a relatively linear narrative meant to preserve the past, remind the present, and inspire the future. In all of these texts, from every religious tradition, there are difficult things, ugly things, that are hard to reconcile with the beautiful parts. But they reflect us and what we're struggling with and trying to overcome as human beings, what some call our sinful nature, our shadow self, or what others would call the poisons of greed, hatred, and delusion. So of course, in our attempts to reach towards the divine or be touched by it, we make mistakes and misunderstand and even do harm in the name of the good. And even though these texts may be inspired by God and contain truth, they're written by people that know both good and evil, who speak both truth and lies, who have their own agendas and desires which aren't necessarily pointing towards God but to their own worldly power and control.
These texts and our relationship to them are rich and complicated, and I feel comfortable finding in them what touches me and help nurtures/deepens my 'theology' without necessarily forcing my theology into them and vice versa. I accept them and learn from them, but I'm also far removed from many of these times and places and certain things may not be as relevant as they once were.
Sunday, August 20, 2023
8/20/23
Today's gospel reading was Matthew 15:10-28. It's one of the more interesting and theologically deep passages—its encounters are complex and full of contradictions that find their resolution in the growing understanding and compassion of Christ. It shows a Jesus who's fully human and fully divine, a Jesus who's a hypocrite and a Jesus who heals. It shows a Jesus who's part of the dominant culture and a Jesus who's marginalized. It shows a Jesus who ignores and insults and a Jesus who learns and grows and expands his vision.
Just before his encounter with the Canaanite woman, Jesus attacks the misunderstanding of religious purity laws, making the point that it's our intentions and what comes from the heart that defiles us or makes us clean, not eating with unwashed or washed hands. The religious elites are upset at this apparent transgression of Jewish law by Jesus' followers, but Jesus calls them hypocrites and says they are like the blind leading the blind. Jesus is then approached by a Canaanite woman, who asks Jesus to heal her daughter. Jesus has healed many others, after all, and she believes in his mission, so why not heal her child as well? Jesus first turns a blind eye to her and her suffering, not even deigning to answer her. The woman persists and refuses to leave. Jesus then says his mission and priority is to the lost sheep of Israel. Yet the woman persists and continues to ask for help. Jesus then insults her by comparing her and her people, the indigenous inhabitants of Palestine which the Jews held in low regard, to dogs in his retort, "It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs." And yet, once again, showing endurance and love and wisdom beyond that of even the great rabbi himself it would seem, the woman persists and turns Jesus' metaphor around on him in her own reply that "even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters." Jesus then praises her faith and heals her daughter.
In many ways, Jesus represents the dominant culture people: he's a male in a patriarchal society, he's a Jew in a land claimed by his people and colonized by them, and he's a religious authority among a people whose lives revolve around their faith. And Jesus seemingly treats this woman accordingly despite all of the things he preached earlier during the Sermon on the Mount, including loving your enemies and the golden rule. But in others, Jesus himself is marginalized: his people are under the domination of the Romans, he's poor, and he's being judged and persecuted by the religious and state leaders of Judea.
Jesus chastizes and criticizes the religious elite for their hypocrisy and lack of understanding, time and again highlighting that the truly religious person helps others, loves others, and treats others as they would wish to be treated themselves, especially the marginalized. Jesus calls them blind in their understanding and example. And yet when confronted with a woman who Jesus has likely been socially conditioned to look down upon, he ignores her and then insults her as if her suffering and that of her daughter meant nothing to him. Yet this woman seemingly becomes his teacher and not only turns his insult around on him, but opens his eyes to his own privilege and hypocrisy, shining a light upon his ignorance and closed heart. And to his credit, he doesn't shut her down but listens, stays present, and in that moment, seemingly grows and expands his vision, being converted and transformed by her faith. Yes, Jesus is fully human, and as such, Jesus has very human characteristics and prejudices despite his deep and intimate connection with God. But Jesus also learns and grows like every human does and he becomes better and his mission broader to include all people. And just as the Trinity is relational and incarnate in all creation, that nature is mirrored in this relational moment between Jesus and the unnamed Canaanite woman, a dialectical spirit present throughout the course of human history.
This exchange reveals the humanness of Jesus in the midst of his divinity. It challenges dominant culture social relations, past, present, and future. It highlights the importance of intention and quality of one's heart vs. adherence to rites and rituals. It expresses the sacredness of everyone, especially the marginalized. It illustrates our potential for growth. And it's a representation of the power of relationships, which filters down from the divine template of creation in the form of the Trinity all the way to human interactions and beyond.
Just before his encounter with the Canaanite woman, Jesus attacks the misunderstanding of religious purity laws, making the point that it's our intentions and what comes from the heart that defiles us or makes us clean, not eating with unwashed or washed hands. The religious elites are upset at this apparent transgression of Jewish law by Jesus' followers, but Jesus calls them hypocrites and says they are like the blind leading the blind. Jesus is then approached by a Canaanite woman, who asks Jesus to heal her daughter. Jesus has healed many others, after all, and she believes in his mission, so why not heal her child as well? Jesus first turns a blind eye to her and her suffering, not even deigning to answer her. The woman persists and refuses to leave. Jesus then says his mission and priority is to the lost sheep of Israel. Yet the woman persists and continues to ask for help. Jesus then insults her by comparing her and her people, the indigenous inhabitants of Palestine which the Jews held in low regard, to dogs in his retort, "It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs." And yet, once again, showing endurance and love and wisdom beyond that of even the great rabbi himself it would seem, the woman persists and turns Jesus' metaphor around on him in her own reply that "even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters." Jesus then praises her faith and heals her daughter.
In many ways, Jesus represents the dominant culture people: he's a male in a patriarchal society, he's a Jew in a land claimed by his people and colonized by them, and he's a religious authority among a people whose lives revolve around their faith. And Jesus seemingly treats this woman accordingly despite all of the things he preached earlier during the Sermon on the Mount, including loving your enemies and the golden rule. But in others, Jesus himself is marginalized: his people are under the domination of the Romans, he's poor, and he's being judged and persecuted by the religious and state leaders of Judea.
Jesus chastizes and criticizes the religious elite for their hypocrisy and lack of understanding, time and again highlighting that the truly religious person helps others, loves others, and treats others as they would wish to be treated themselves, especially the marginalized. Jesus calls them blind in their understanding and example. And yet when confronted with a woman who Jesus has likely been socially conditioned to look down upon, he ignores her and then insults her as if her suffering and that of her daughter meant nothing to him. Yet this woman seemingly becomes his teacher and not only turns his insult around on him, but opens his eyes to his own privilege and hypocrisy, shining a light upon his ignorance and closed heart. And to his credit, he doesn't shut her down but listens, stays present, and in that moment, seemingly grows and expands his vision, being converted and transformed by her faith. Yes, Jesus is fully human, and as such, Jesus has very human characteristics and prejudices despite his deep and intimate connection with God. But Jesus also learns and grows like every human does and he becomes better and his mission broader to include all people. And just as the Trinity is relational and incarnate in all creation, that nature is mirrored in this relational moment between Jesus and the unnamed Canaanite woman, a dialectical spirit present throughout the course of human history.
This exchange reveals the humanness of Jesus in the midst of his divinity. It challenges dominant culture social relations, past, present, and future. It highlights the importance of intention and quality of one's heart vs. adherence to rites and rituals. It expresses the sacredness of everyone, especially the marginalized. It illustrates our potential for growth. And it's a representation of the power of relationships, which filters down from the divine template of creation in the form of the Trinity all the way to human interactions and beyond.
Tuesday, July 4, 2023
7/4/23
I wrote my own version of the Apostle's and Nicene creeds respectively:
And:
I mainly did it because I wanted to create something that reflected my faith and understanding better and utilized more universal language.
I believe in God, the ground of being;
and in Christ Jesus, light of the world,
who was born of the Holy Spirit and the Blessed Mary,
who lived amongst the poor, the disinherited, and the dispossessed,
who preached the liberating love of God, fed the hungry, healed the sick, and restored communities,
who under state oppression was executed and buried,
on the third day he rose again from the dead,
ascended to heaven,
returning to the One,
and whose example and teachings continue to guide and inspire us;
and in the Holy Spirit,
the universal church,
the remission of sins,
the communion of the saints,
the liberation of mind and body,
and life everlasting. Amen.
And:
I believe in God, the ground of being, the sustainer of all things,
and in Jesus Christ, child of God, light of the world,
who was suffused with the holy spirit, born of the blessed Mary, lived amongst the poor, the disinherited, and the dispossessed, preached the liberating love of God,
fed the hungry, healed the sick, and loved all of humanity,
suffered under state violence, was executed, died, and was buried,
he descended into Hades and broke open its doors; on the third day he rose again from the dead;
he ascended into Deathlessness, and is one with God, the source of all being;
and whose example and teachings continue to guide and inspire us.
I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy universal church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the liberation of mind and body, and life everlasting. Amen.
I mainly did it because I wanted to create something that reflected my faith and understanding better and utilized more universal language.
Sunday, July 2, 2023
7/2/23
I had one of the most moving and profound religious experiences of my life today. I went to Spirit of Grace and a retired Catholic priest who, perhaps unfairly, gives me weird vibes was presiding. But during the homily, given by Director Vinci, and the rather inclusive liturgy of the Eucharist, I felt something I haven't felt in a long time, if ever. Between their words and my own internal reaching towards the infinite, I honestly felt like God was actually there with me/us in that moment and it gave me waves of chills and an overwhelming feeling that completely washed over me. Usually I might be moved by a homily or service, but I don't ever feel something profound taking place. Certainly not like that. It may have just been a psychophysical reaction, but it was an amazing experience. I didn't write down anything in the moment, so the precise theme and words allude me now, but for a brief moment, I felt the presence of God and it literally moved me to tears.
Thursday, June 29, 2023
6/29/23
A thought I had today after watching an episode of Succession:
Money is a social construct; but with enough of it, you can construct society in your image. But that image, more often than not born out of greed and a lust for power, becomes corrupted, becomes an idol, a false god, a master that you serve over others. It becomes a blasphemy against all things good. The love of money is the root of all evil, and we pierce ourselves and one another with many sorrows because of it.
Coincidentally, after I wrote this, someone on the Magnificast discord server posted this link from Twitter, which seemed synchronistic to say the least.
The caption reads:
Money is a social construct; but with enough of it, you can construct society in your image. But that image, more often than not born out of greed and a lust for power, becomes corrupted, becomes an idol, a false god, a master that you serve over others. It becomes a blasphemy against all things good. The love of money is the root of all evil, and we pierce ourselves and one another with many sorrows because of it.
Coincidentally, after I wrote this, someone on the Magnificast discord server posted this link from Twitter, which seemed synchronistic to say the least.
Moses: "What a strange thing. I thought I had smashed the golden calf to bits, but it's still alive and ruling the world." Karl Marx: "Don't worry, Comrade Moyshe. Once the students of my Torah smash the calf, it will never be resurrected from the dead."
Sunday, June 4, 2023
6/4/23
Today was Trinity Sunday, and for the first Sunday in pride month, Pastor Robyn gave a homily on the diverse language about God in the bible and early church literature, making the case that the expression of the trinity in both representation and reality is genderly diverse and, in my words, queer.
Despite God — as the ground of being — not having a sex or gender, modern western language about God throughout literature and liturgy focuses almost exclusively on the masculine and, in the process, makes the feminine subordinate, which has had the unfortunate effect of supporting patriarchal theology and social relations. The default, of course, has been to gender God as male, but the language used to talk about God varies from the masculine to the feminine and even plural/gender neutral, thus our theology of God, Truth, Nature, Ultimate Reality, etc., should reflect that.
For example, beyond being spoken of using masculine pronouns and as a father, God is also described as a woman in labor (Isaiah 42:14), a nursing mother (Isaiah 49:15), a comforting mother (Isaiah 66:13), a mother bear (Hosea 13:8), a mother bird sheltering her children (Ruth 2:12), etc., and in the story of creation creates humanity male and female in their (plural) image (Gen 1:26-27). The Hebrew words for the wisdom (chokmah) and spirit (ruach) of God are feminine, while the Greek word for spirit (pneuma) is neutral. Jesus compares himself to a mother hen (Mt 23:37), and many early church leaders spoke of God and Jesus in more than masculine terms. An early liturgical work, Odes of Solomon, portrays God as the mother of believers (and all of humanity), nurturing them with holy milk (8:17). Clement of Alexandria writes of Jesus, "The Word [Christ] is all to the child, both father and mother and tutor and nurse" (The Instructor). John Chrysostom's Christ says, "Be thou in need of nothing, I will be even a servant, for I came to minister, not to be ministered unto; I am friend, and member, and head, and brother, and sister, and mother; I am all; only cling thou closely to me" (Homilies on Matthew, 76). Anselm, Bernard of Clairvaux, and Julian of Norwich, among others, also compare Jesus to a mother.
All of this serves to highlight that the imagery and understanding of God historically transcends the simplistic and patriarchal presentation we're often presented with, illustrating that God both transcends gender while simultaneously encompassing all modes of gender. And our understanding should, too. The trinity represents the relational and diverse nature of reality; and to more clearly perceive that reality, we must love and accept it in all its multiplicity because love is our first principle.
Richard Rohr has often described the trinity as a circular dance and the deepest flow of life, and that each 'person' of the trinity relates by "living in an eternal self-emptying (kenosis), which allows each of them to let go completely and give themselves to the other. They are simultaneously loving and totally loveable, one to another." And that love is the very nature and shape of divine being: "This deep flow is then the pattern of the whole universe, and any idea of God’s 'wrath' or of God withholding what is an infinitely outflowing love is theologically impossible. Love is the very pattern with which we start and the goal toward which we move. It gives energy to the entire universe, from orbiting protons and neutrons to the social and sexual life of species, to the planets and stars. We were indeed created in communion, by communion, and for communion (Genesis 1:26 calls it being 'created in the image and likeness of God')."
The universe is alive with love, and any theology expressing its nature can't limit our understanding or our expression of love without doing violence to nature itself.
Despite God — as the ground of being — not having a sex or gender, modern western language about God throughout literature and liturgy focuses almost exclusively on the masculine and, in the process, makes the feminine subordinate, which has had the unfortunate effect of supporting patriarchal theology and social relations. The default, of course, has been to gender God as male, but the language used to talk about God varies from the masculine to the feminine and even plural/gender neutral, thus our theology of God, Truth, Nature, Ultimate Reality, etc., should reflect that.
For example, beyond being spoken of using masculine pronouns and as a father, God is also described as a woman in labor (Isaiah 42:14), a nursing mother (Isaiah 49:15), a comforting mother (Isaiah 66:13), a mother bear (Hosea 13:8), a mother bird sheltering her children (Ruth 2:12), etc., and in the story of creation creates humanity male and female in their (plural) image (Gen 1:26-27). The Hebrew words for the wisdom (chokmah) and spirit (ruach) of God are feminine, while the Greek word for spirit (pneuma) is neutral. Jesus compares himself to a mother hen (Mt 23:37), and many early church leaders spoke of God and Jesus in more than masculine terms. An early liturgical work, Odes of Solomon, portrays God as the mother of believers (and all of humanity), nurturing them with holy milk (8:17). Clement of Alexandria writes of Jesus, "The Word [Christ] is all to the child, both father and mother and tutor and nurse" (The Instructor). John Chrysostom's Christ says, "Be thou in need of nothing, I will be even a servant, for I came to minister, not to be ministered unto; I am friend, and member, and head, and brother, and sister, and mother; I am all; only cling thou closely to me" (Homilies on Matthew, 76). Anselm, Bernard of Clairvaux, and Julian of Norwich, among others, also compare Jesus to a mother.
All of this serves to highlight that the imagery and understanding of God historically transcends the simplistic and patriarchal presentation we're often presented with, illustrating that God both transcends gender while simultaneously encompassing all modes of gender. And our understanding should, too. The trinity represents the relational and diverse nature of reality; and to more clearly perceive that reality, we must love and accept it in all its multiplicity because love is our first principle.
Richard Rohr has often described the trinity as a circular dance and the deepest flow of life, and that each 'person' of the trinity relates by "living in an eternal self-emptying (kenosis), which allows each of them to let go completely and give themselves to the other. They are simultaneously loving and totally loveable, one to another." And that love is the very nature and shape of divine being: "This deep flow is then the pattern of the whole universe, and any idea of God’s 'wrath' or of God withholding what is an infinitely outflowing love is theologically impossible. Love is the very pattern with which we start and the goal toward which we move. It gives energy to the entire universe, from orbiting protons and neutrons to the social and sexual life of species, to the planets and stars. We were indeed created in communion, by communion, and for communion (Genesis 1:26 calls it being 'created in the image and likeness of God')."
The universe is alive with love, and any theology expressing its nature can't limit our understanding or our expression of love without doing violence to nature itself.
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