Qui bono?

Who benefits?

It's amazing how absolutely tiresome it has become to still be reading the ad nauseam news, stories, essays, commentaries, etc. about the lack of vocations and men willing to become priests. (young is the magic adjective usually preceding the word men.)

Yet in this constantly bemoaned abyss I float as if invisible - the portion nobody wants and is passed over - the kid not being picked when choosing teammates. Maybe the day will come when I can be told what is wrong with me and why I am so bad.

Does it really benefit me or the Church?

Yet Another Comment on Humanae Vitae

This morning's high mass included Fr. D. devoting a small part of his sermon to the recent 40th anniversary of Pope Paul VI's encyclical Humanae Vitae.

Much written about and commented on this past Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, I had been lax in paying much attention to the expected bombardment of anniversary commentary whether it has been pro or con. Indeed, I have never put much study or personal importance on Humanae Vitae. My thought process was:

1. As both a cradle and "practicing" Catholic, I accept and believe (and not blindly) the True teaching of the Church about contraception; for me, personally, there was no need for the reaffirmation of these beliefs that were in Humanae Vitae (so I thought).
2. Even though Humanae Vitae is a papal encyclical of my lifetime by a pontiff I remember, it was simply a response to the faithful of the time that may have been wavering in traditional teaching, practice, and belief.

I suspect now that I was mistaken in both! What sparked my current extra-interest all of a sudden? Fr. D. happened to mention the insightful predictions made by Pope Paul VI in the encyclical. Reviewing it this afternoon and looking up some of the last few days' many news items and posts about it, I believe now that my careless inattention had much more to teach me than merely affirmations of Christian teaching about contraception. There was so much more to learn in its prognostic admonitions!

Many have evaluated this in a much more comprehensive way than I am capable of. I feel one of the best I found this afternoon is a great article, The Vindication of Humanae Vitae on First Things website. I highly recommend it. On the same site is a quick and good commentary I also recommend, The Anniversary of Humanae Vitae.

Few Are Chosen

My heart is still heavy as the result of dwelling too much on discontentment. Driving to work this morning, I couldn't help but be upset with myself for my lack of patience and selfish needs.

It has been over 3 years since Fr. H., the pastor of my previous parish, was reassigned out of my city to a small town in the diocese. A few short weeks ago I finally got up the courage to track him down and drove out to see him selfishly seeking someone to talk to about this painfully lonely anguish called discernment. Though he is no longer my pastor, he is the only priest I personally know and the only ecclesiastical person in the diocese that would discuss vocation with me. So I got dressed for mass and drove out there with butterflies in my stomach, scarcely believing my audacity thinking of the hopeful attempt to seek his council after mass before any of his official congregation got to him.

Finding the church, I accepted the bulletin the usher handed me as I entered, located an empty pew, and said my prayers before mass. As I seated myself after praying and opened the bulletin out of curiosity, there is was… A note in the bulletin announcing that Fr. H. was doing well in his surgical recovery and thanking everyone for the cards sent to him c/o the rectory. I immediately got up to see the usher; surely he could tell me what was going on! Poor Fr. H., who is not much older than me, had hip replacement surgery and was currently in rehab. It was obvious he didn’t know where Fr. H. actually was or an exact date when he may return from his recovery.

I didn’t stay for mass. I left not only disappointed, but also greatly ashamed at being disappointed because of my selfish needs while the poor man is recovering from major surgery. I sincerely pray for his recovery and have asked forgiveness for my self-interested behavior.

All of this brings this morning and this moment to my current state. Coming home from mass last Sunday and still experiencing the incredible emotions I mentioned in earlier entries, I attempted to call Fr. H.’s rectory. I wanted to know if he was back or maybe there was someone else to talk to. I left a message with my name and number on the answering machine and then carried the telephone around for 3 days. (Pathetic, huh?)

I guess I expect too much. Even if Fr. H. was not available, I had hoped someone might have at least conveyed back that this was the case.

This is a long lonely road and I pray for the grace is granted me to see and accept the outcome soon.

Many Are Called

A warm congratulation to my good work friend B. McIntyre! He was ordained to the priesthood in the Genuine Orthodox Church last week as Fr. Maximos McIntrye (taking his name from Maximos the Confessor).

Despite the differences in our faith, we are both strongly pulled to the unchanged Traditions of our Churches. He has continued to be a great friend in strength and support as my only personal resource of spiritual discernment and encouragement. Even when going through his own dark times of discernment, he was always there with a helping hand instead of a kick.

Devout, holy, and already spiritually wise at his young age, pray with me for his continued growth and success in his vocation!

He has just re-launched his own blog, The Orthodox Voice.

Frangar non Flectar

I am broken, I am not deflected

It is difficult, but I am struggling not to allow negative suggestions hold me back. I am in a better state of mind compared to the resulting emotional turmoil from yesterday’s minimal priestly advice.

I have realized that this is a cross with a burden I should be able to endure. How broken Jesus was during His Passion yet He never deflected on the road to Calvary! Can I do no less?

Nonetheless my endurance still wants to falter. One of the more painful aspects of the journey that, for me, remains difficult is the unexpected desolation along the way. My own dark night is not over; it is barely twilight. How bright the guiding light of the shepherds would be if only I was a sheep they wished to look for. I sometimes wonder, “Where is my Simon of Cyrene?” He may yet be there further down the path while I slowly chase the twilight into the dawn. When you are broken, hope is the only nourishing ray preventing disintegration!

Jesus is there to make my spiritual burden no more than a feather but my spirit is still too often eclipsed by the confinements of the sensory encasing that is trapped in this leaden, solitary darkness.

Yet a candle has remained lit. Though it is only recently I have finally recognized my slow waning into a mere shadow of myself since the initial rejection and unexplained repudiation of almost 4 years ago, a shadow can only exist in the presence of some illumination! I pray for the strength to fan the flame as I carry my cross so the shadow may fade and the true self is visible once again.

If you only knew what darkness I am plunged into. --Saint Thérèse of Lisieux

Called But Not Chosen

While reading Father Jim Chern's Blog today, the entry for July 5 stood right out for me:

Every one of us is confronted daily with opportunities to respond to what ever it is God has called us to, or we are tempted to fulfill some desire that we want... I’ve met more than a few individuals who God is calling to be a priest or a religious, but they jump from one thing to another - one job to another job, relationship to relationship almost trying to dodge God and they can’t figure out why they are still unhappy, still unsettled, still not as at peace.

From my personal perspective, these words ring so true. But what becomes even more frustrating is when you finally stop running and say “here I am” only to be met with non-stop resistance. Just as I did late this morning after mass, I now open up and tell the truth. I fell apart on the way home when the priest I confided to, though admitting he didn't really know me, suggested I forget any pursuit of the priesthood.

The anguish is unbearable. What gives?

Confiteor

Acolyte Envy (or Trying to Console the Inner Child Altar Boy)

How can one be guilty of the sin of envy while intently concentrating on the mass? Well, for one, my concentration was only visual. I allowed myself too much distraction to let my conscious wander. At daily mass this morning, I shamefully became aware of the sinful jealousy that has enveloped me these past few weeks, especially at Sunday high mass! My mind has moved from attentive participation to the covetous feelings toward the altar servers. This sometimes leads to a silly bout of self-pity which also isn’t too spiritually helpful, either.

Now that I write this, I realize the occasional judgmental righteousness might be slipping in on occasion. To myself I have sometimes wondered in my loud inner voice, “do they realize how lucky they are to be altar boys?” The servers at the chapel where I regularly attend mass have an age range from juvenile to adult. When needed, the adults that serve are from the order of brothers for which the chapel is attached; I don’t find my attention too sidetracked when they serve. Thankfully, the community that attends the chapel is blessed with no small amount of traditional aged servers of diverse years; these are the lucky stiffs I’m childishly letting get to me.

What I thought I let go of so many years ago still haunts me. As a young boy, the first thing I ever asked to do at church was to become an altar boy. Of course, you ask your parents first. My mother’s adamant “no” was the kind where I knew it would be pointless to pursue the matter and the disappointment had to remain silent. Over time, all other queries for permission of other involvements met with the same response.

It was hurt, not resentment, in my younger years that accompanied my disappointment. Instead of green eyes, I used to watch the other altar boys with wide-eyed interest. Sometimes I’d walk with a younger cousin to his parish where he would serve late afternoon masses on days of obligation or a Saturday vigil mass. I would watch with sincere fascination as he helped the priest while always guarding my boyhood pride by never revealing my frustration that I wasn’t allowed to do what he did so casually.

That maternal “no” and wish that was a letdown would probably be part of a myriad of those personal childhood moments that are part of growing up and confined to rarely visited corners of memory if it wasn’t for the great what if…?

What if I had been an altar boy? I like to think that my own vocation discernment might not have been arrested if I had the chance to be on the other side of the altar rail. It might have given me a different impression of having a vocation other than something that was bad or laughable.

The first time I had to face this memory was a few years ago when I was still an active lector in my former novus ordo parish. My pastor was surprised I had never been an altar boy and wanted to know why. I don’t remember what I told him, but I’m ashamed to say it wasn’t the truth. I didn’t want to admit it was because my mother wouldn’t let me (the 4th Commandment, you know). But the memory came to the surface (and has stayed) and along with it came the what if.

So here I am in my current vocational pursuits being told I’m too old or turned away for undisclosed reasons. I like to imagine if I had been an altar boy I may have had enough courage in my early adult convictions to pursue the priesthood without fear of family condemnation or social disapproval. More so, I think I needed more exposure to an ecclesiastical example of life that became more fearful and unknown to me as I grew older. Not that this would have guaranteed me the priesthood but I think it would have been different. …what if?

What a bumpy road it is! I can only be thankful that a light has shone to show me this bump. What a thing to let darken the gift of the mass. Such envy is shameful. I am so grateful the Holy Ghost was finally recognized and made me realize the diversion that has been attempting to separate me from Christ. I also think it’s time I said some prayers for all those wonderful young people we are fortunate to have that do get to serve at the altar.

Don't Curse the Darkness

Jumping late on the bandwagon, but because I want to, I finally start a blog.
Taking my queue from a couple of recent Catholic themed blogs I liked, particularly A Journey of Vocation and Dracut Musings.

I’m trying to see what light or insights I can bring while in a spiritually dark feeling diocese. Let’s see what develops.