Okay, okay – so I watch American Idol. Is that so wrong?
Before you answer that, let me just say that this week’s show was very surprising. Firstly, the featured artist was Dolly Parton. Now, I’m an unashamed fan of Dolly’s voice. I don’t own a single record of hers, but I always enjoy hearing her sing. There’s something authentic and just pure Southern about her writing and experiences. She’s a contradiction sometimes – a pure product of the Christ haunted culture of the South (throwing some Flannery O’Conner at you – heh). She’s singing about stealing someone’s man one minute, then praising Jesus the next. Very Southern.
On Tuesday’s show, the contestants sung Dolly’s songs. I was simply amazed at the number that mentioned Jesus. I could just imagine what was going on in Simon’s head after hearing all these references to Christ. And then . . . well, the results show was even more surprising. The Clark Brothers won a recent talent show called, The Next Great American Band. These guys wowed me by singing some good ‘ole gospel hymns. Wow. Check it out.
Our bishop, his excellency Bishop Thomas Rodi, was recently named Archbishop of Mobile. I’ve only been Catholic for a year, but I already know that Mobile is getting a wonderful pastor. Luckily he will remain as our administrator while we wait for a new Bishop.
As an indicator of his wonderful pastoral leadership, our newest Gulfpine Catholic gives the numbers for people coming into the Church this Easter Vigil. 59 baptized and 139 coming into full communion. That’s 198 people. I don’t know what the numbers should be or could be, but I know that in a community fully in the ‘Bible-Belt’, I’m glad to have that many new Catholics in my family.
Today, the second Sunday of Easter, is Divine Mercy Sunday. I wanted to share with anyone who happens upon this my story of God’s Divine Mercy given to my family on this day.
On some Sundays my family goes to my parents’ home for Sunday dinner. Today was one of those days, and as we were finishing the meal and preparing to go home, my niece started a movie that I had been wanting to see: August Rush. Normally we would be quickly away, getting the boys either occupied or asleep – and if asleep, we’d all go in for a Sunday nap. My brother had just left for work, leaving his son there at my parents’ home as well, so all three boys (nephew + my two) were outside playing. My wife got up several times to check on them, and they were doing typical boy stuff – playing soldier, etc.
Just a few minutes after my wife’s last check on the boys, my oldest comes in and says, “Jakub (my nephew) is so silly. He’s got a rope around his neck playing outside.” To understand Jakub is to understand why my next reaction was out of sorts. He’s a rambunctious boy, old for his years (nine) and prone to just the kind of things that would normally make me say, “Tell him to get that rope off his neck, now!” . . . . That Jakub – always pushing the envelope. Yet, not this time.
I bolted. I ran for the door, turned the corner into the front yard and saw him. A rope was on his neck and he was suspended from a tree. The end of the rope was about two feet from the ground so some of his body was resting on the ground, but his upper body was not. He was so purple he almost looked black. I’ve never came as close to loosing my mind as I did at that moment. I ran, got the rope from around his neck and saw that he was not breathing. I thought he was dead. All this time I was shrieking for help, crying and praying in my mind for God’s help. My mother and wife came running outside and had similar reactions. By God’s grace, my wife (who is studying to be a nurse) gathered enough wits to set him on the ground and start administering CPR.
I ran inside, called 911 and ran to get a neighbor who is some sort of professional in the medical industry. By the time I got back to the house, he was breathing and was being cradled by my wife. He had experienced some sort of seizure-like activity (I was told) during the process to get him back. It was a frightening day. It was a day of Mercy. The medics arrived and determined he was one lucky little boy. He’s resting at home with his dad as I type this.
I just wanted to post this, on this day most especially. I appreciate any prayers you can offer up for him and for his dad and mother.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m truly ‘becoming hinged.’ God has taken most of the questions and doubts in my life and either has answered them or provided peace in them. Those that still remain simply don’t come to mind at this time. I’m sure they’re there, lingering . . . waiting to be used by the enemy at the most opportune time in order to loosen the screws on the newly-hinged me. But that’s okay. That’s not now. Now is a time of learning. Of trusting. Of letting go and letting God.
Yet in this time of feeling like God really is sorting me out . . . I’m being pressed with an issue of faithfulness to God and His Church’s teachings. I can almost literally see the fork in the road. Either I can remain in this feeling of God’s protection – choosing obedience over convenience; or I can take the more traveled road and potentially lose all the progress in this journey. Please pray for me.
I’m not quite as old as the author of the post linked to above. I do, however, remember well growing up in a very similar environment. I can still recall the day I called a black classmate nigger simply because I thought this is what they were. I quickly learned from that situation that that word was uttered safely away from the ears of African Americans. I consider myself a funny enough person, but I can’t remember a joke well enough to tell it coherently. Yet, I can remember many of the racist jokes that were told to me in all kinds of places – including the places of worship that I attended as a child.
I can remember the first time I saw a black man walk into church on Sunday morning. You could breathe the tension in the room. I remember my first boss telling me that the black guy he had hired was an exception, because he usually didn’t hire them. This was in the early 1990’s.
Whatever we do in this debate about Obama’s pastor and what was said and what Obama knew, etc. etc. – let’s not pretend the issue of racism magically disappeared. There are real hurts, real chasms of generational proportions. God knows I’m guilty of my own racial prejudices in the past. I hope and pray that God is healing me of them every day.
This is for anyone to answer: Does your diocese have the ministry of instituted acolyte?
I’m asking because I recently discovered that this is the ministry that altar servers and extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion are based upon. Only when an instituted acolyte is not present are these ‘ministries’ to be present. What’s the solution for dioceses across the world? Simply have no instituted acolytes. Problem solved. Now the duties of the acolyte can be assigned to whomever without regard to the actual teaching on this ministry.
Here’s a breakdown of what I understand, and I welcome all input and correction:
Canon 230 of the Code of Canon Law states, “Lay men who possess the age and qualifications established by decree of the conference of bishops can be admitted on a stable basis through the prescribed liturgical rite to the ministries of lector and acolyte. Nevertheless, the conferral of these ministries does not grant them the right to obtain support or remuneration from the Church.”
The USCCB, in their complimentary legislation on Canon 230, state, “The National Conference of Catholic Bishops, in accord with the prescriptions of canon 230§1, hereby decrees that a layman who is to be installed in the ministries of lector or acolyte on a stable basis must have completed his twenty-first (21) year of age. The candidate must also possess the skills necessary for an effective proclamation of the Word or service at the altar, be a fully initiated member of the Catholic Church, be free of any canonical penalty, and live a life which befits the ministry to be undertaken.”
However, in their Guidelines for Altar Servers, the USCCB states “Although institution into the ministry of acolyte is reserved to lay men, the diocesan bishop may permit the liturgical functions of the instituted acolyte to be carried out by altar servers, men and women, boys and girls. Such persons may carry out all the functions listed in nos. 98-100 of the General Instruction of the Roman Missal.”
So there it is. The ministry of instituted acolyte should be reserved for men of a certain age, determined by the conference of Bishops. Okay. So what does our conference of Bishops do? They provide a loophole so that in the absence of instituted acolytes, their duties (short of purification of the Holy Vessels) can be done by anyone. And naturally, any loophole provided the American Church becomes standard procedure.
Among other things I gave up this Lenten season, I should have included Vox Nova. It’s a decidedly leftist leaning blog with several posting members who openly support Obama. From all that I can gather, this support isn’t truly based on his record (which is quite explicitly anti-life) but upon some wispy hope that he will make a difference – “Yes, he can!” They’ve bought into the hype, and damn anyone who disagrees with them. Say you support McCain, and you’re presented with a litany of wrongs he’s supposedly supported – including research on embryonic stem cells. But I’ve never read a McCain supporter on a Catholic blog whitewash his record. Never. Can these VoxNovians not see how distorted and dangerous their stances really are? Apparently not.
We’ve recently been graced with this post. Wow. How inspiring. And on the day that the Pope has declared Fr. McGivney venerable. I myself am a proud American. I am a proud Catholic. I am a proud Knight of Columbus. I am ashamed that even stumbled upon the trash that is currently being offered up at Vox Nova.
No, I didn’t give up reading Vox Nova for Lent. But I have the rest of my life to rectify that. See you later, guys.
Updated: I’m not going to approve your comments here. Keep your trash on your own site, brother. You know who you are.
I was finally able to attend my first Latin Mass in the extraordinary form. Wow. It was indeed very different from the ordinary form, however, it was quite a wonderful experience. I felt very close to Christ even though the opportunities for ‘participation’ were not as numerous. It was a dialog mass, so if I was up on my Latin I could have done more, but as it was I merely tried to take it all in. The silence was amazing. The prayers of the priest are, for the most part, inaudible. This makes for some serious time of reflection. Also, the time spent on my knees made me realize why so many saints were formed under the extraordinary form – my knees were aching so bad toward the end. I simply offered it up and tried to focus on Christ.
I would encourage anyone to experience this at least once. I definitely want to go back.
