Catching up...

Just some links to interesting stuff. Mostly, I've been trying to catch up on all sorts of things that need finishing before Christmas. Till soon....!

Good news from India about Catholic and Orthodox Christians working together!

Is there a "God Spot" in our brains? Just Jen says, "Whoa!" ... and more!

Remember Terri Shiavo? Here's an Indian in a similar spot, who has a "social activist" acting "on her behalf." It scares the crap out of me that the news service speaks of a "hope" for death and this death-eating activist being "on her behalf" -- all without batting an eye.

Finally, more good news regarding cancer: they're cracking the genetic code! The headline's a little overly optimistic, but they have decoded skin- and lung-cancer. Go Science Go!
Rabbert blathers on....

I'm not so sure about this...

Breaking News: Catholic Deacon publishes "The Order by which People Get Into Heaven"!!

The part that makes me skeptical?

To be admitted only after review by the Screening Board (Catherine of Siena, chairwoman), the Board of Appeals (Meher Baba, chairman) and the Last Gasp Committee (Cardinal Joseph Bernadin, chairman): poets, novelists, buskers, spies, New York Yankees fans.

Yankees fans I understand, and poets. But come on, cut novelists a little slack!

Maybe my girl Kate will help me get through...
Rabbert blathers on....

Ecumenism

One of the reasons for the lack of posts recently is that I've traveled to my cousin's wedding. The liturgy was truly beautiful, combining both reverence for God and the solemnity of marriage, and the earthy irreverence that so characterizes my cousin (and most of my family).

Now, I'm a Catholic. My cousin was raised at least nominally Catholic. I don't know what kind of religious background her husband has. The ceremony was Episcopalian. And this caused me a deep ache, as if the very marrow of my bones was both compacted and stretched out at the same time.

I have nothing personal against Episcopalians, or the Anglican Communion. I have, of course, theological disagreements; but those are not the cause of my pain. My pain comes from the division between the members of Christ's Body.

I realize that I place an importance on religion and theology that is, well, statistically abnormal. I see religion as something foundational to every aspect of life, and therefore one of the least negotiable parts of one's life. Most people I talk to seem to take religion as a means of connecting with their spirituality and/or their community, and therefore as something fairly, even essentially, changeable. So I'm not sure quite how to approach people without coming off as a zealot or a "Stepford" Catholic.

At the same time, I really don't understand how so many Christians can simply tolerate -- or even celebrate! -- the ongoing divisions between the "denominations" of Christianity. As I say, it causes me a pain that has physical manifestations. I hate that I was unable to share Communion with my cousin at her wedding. I hate that I am unable to share Communion with many of my close friends.

I just don't quite know what to do to encourage a resolution to this situation.
Rabbert blathers on....

Gallup-ing through the church?

It's a commonplace today for people to be "spiritual" without being "religious". By that, most people seem to mean that they are interested in matters of faith and spirituality, but not interested in membership in an institution. My guess is that institutional membership feels like a burden, an obligation. In any case, the result is a steady downward trend in church membership and participation over the past several decades. Even if there are new members entering a community every year, there also are members dropping out.

A program offered by the Gallup Organization -- source of all those Gallup Polls -- promises to reverse those trends, to make the local churches places where people will really connect with the institution and deepen their faith. The program is outlined in the book, Growing an Engaged Church, by Albert L. Winseman. His main thesis is that, contrary to the old wisdom that belonging follows belief, deep belief and growth in faith actually follows as a result of belonging to a living and lively community.

This makes a certain instinctive sense to a Catholic. Unlike many of the Evangelical, Pentecostal, and Emergant approaches to Christianity of recent years, institutional memberships really matters theologically to Catholics: we are baptized into the Body of Christ, not into an individual relationship. But Winseman notes that engagement means much more than mere membership. He proposes four areas in which congregational engagement can be measured:

• What do I get?
• What do I give?
• Do I belong?
• How can we grow?

These areas, of course, become the basis for a poll which can give statistical measurements of the "health" of a particular congregation. As he puts it,

Measuring engagement, and implementing strategies to improve it, is just like preparing the soil to produce an abundant crop. It is no secret that there are some churches that produce abundant fruit of the Spirit; and there are others that seem as dry as a withered fig tree, bearing no fruit. Increasing engagement in your church is simply employing the latest research and discoveries -- preparing the soil -- so God can produce a bumper crop; it's creating a receptive climate for the work of the Holy Spirit, so God can do great things in your midst.

I have no argument with any of this. Even my parish, which is known in the Archdiocese for being particularly fruitful and lively, recognizes that it is far from being the "good soil" described by our Lord's parable. And I think that the Gallup system does one very good thing that it sets out to do: it tests the soil to see if anything will grow.

Moreover, Winseman suggests three concrete tactics for increasing engagement:

• Clarify the expectations of membership
• Help members discover what they do best
• Create small groups

Again, taking these steps cannot help but improve the relationship between the individual and the institution. The first step alone could solve any number of problems in my parish, where misunderstandings are as rife as anywhere else on the planet.

But what Winseman misses is that it takes more than "good soil" to bear good fruit. In the Gospel parable, as in life, a seed must be sown for a plant to grow. All that the Gallup system really promotes is an atmosphere of strong membership in an institution. It doesn't really provide faith.

Now, as Winseman points out early in his book, faith involves membership in the Church; but membership alone is not a sufficient condition for the growth of faith or of the charity which is faith come to full fruit.

Perhaps this is because faith is not something that can be programmed institutionally. All an institution can do is provide an opportunity for faith, an opportunity for the encounter with Jesus which is the seed of faith. Winseman admits this, but says nothing more about it. He seems to see "preparing the soil" as the only work that we can do, and that everything else is entirely up to God. In short, this approach is entirely about how a particular congregation engages its members, and not at all about why a church seeks to engage anyone.

This is exactly where the seams show. This entire approach to churches is based on a model (called "The Gallup Path") originally designed with business in mind, where the ultimate goal is to increase profit for the company. But a church -- of any faith -- does not exist for the purpose of profit, and its members do not relate to leadership as employees to employer. The goal cannot be assumed, since the content of the goal varies dramatically from one faith to another. Rather, the content of the goal is exactly what divides churches and religions and cultures.

In short, what people are engaged in -- or better, whom they are engaged with -- is at least as important as how they are being engaged, when it comes to religion. And this is something Winseman studiously ignores and even dismisses as not significant.

Now, as I mentioned above, a church can certainly gain from the methods outlined in Growing an Engaged Church. I would simply warn that this book and the Gallup Path is not sufficient in and of itself to bring people to the fullness of life in Christ.
Rabbert blathers on....

Catholic criteria for health care reform

The Catholic Bishops in the U.S. have, both individually and collectively, sought reform of our health care system for many years. It was part of their support of labor unions, part of their preferential option for the poor, part of the greater ideals to which they have called the sheep of their flocks, and particularly our political leaders.

However, they have always held that health care reform should be true reform: that is, it is currently deformed, and needs to return to its true form. Health care must truly care for the health of all people.

In a letter to Congress [.pdf], the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops set out four main criteria for authentic health care reform.

1. A truly universal health policy with respect for human life and dignity
2. Access for all with a special concern for the poor and inclusion of legal immigrants
3. Pursuing the common good and preserving pluralism including freedom of conscience and variety of options
4. Restraining costs and applying them equitably across the spectrum of payers

This is very similar to a list which they articulated back in 1993, when another president was attempting to push through major health care reform. In fact, they also have re-issued this message, because its argument remains valid.

Note that the Bishops are not supporting or opposing any legislation. Rather, they are giving principles based on human nature, and which can be understood and accepted without any other relation to Christ or Christianity. They simply are voicing the concerns that arise from a Christian worldview.
Rabbert blathers on....

Thinking about evangelization

I'm reading a book that's sort of a "how to" on sharing the Gospel in a postmodern cultural setting. Something was bugging me about it, but I couldn't put my finger on it till I talked with my dad about it over some ice cream. (He had chocolate, I had rainbow sherbet.)

Now, my dad has been a salesman for most of his life. He sees everything through the lens of sales. And, as we were talking, he pointed out that the book was describing sales techniques for selling Jesus.

"That's it! You nailed it!" I said. See, people are not objects of sales. Relationships are not commodities that can be exchanged. So, the attitude of sales is just plain wrong for drawing people to a deeper relationship with God.

But then, what exactly is evangelization about? What does Christ mean when he commands his followers to "make disciples of all nations"?

My current thought, well open to revision, is that a "matchmaker" analogy is much more appropriate than a "salesman" analogy. Our task as Christians is to bear witness to Jesus Christ, both who he was historically and who he is now in our individual lives, and to introduce people to him.

This analogy fits very well with our individual-freedom-oriented culture today, but it seems passive compared to the command to "make disciples." Unless it is like saying that a matchmaker has a mandate to "make spouses of all peoples." Still thinking thoughts about it.
Rabbert blathers on....

The logic of gifts

Way back in 1980, before I was even fully aware of my surroundings, Pope John Paul II published an encyclical titled Dives in misericordia, or Rich in Mercy. Some time in the mid- to late-nineties, I finally read it, and discovered something that confused me greatly: JP2 said that justice was incomplete, insufficient, and inhumane without mercy.

This was confusing to me because I thought, as many of my friends did, that mercy was something that overrode and (in a way) contradicted justice.

It's now many years later, and I've just finished reading Pope Benedict XVI's new encyclical, Caritas in veritate, or Love in Truth. Pope Benedict says something very similar, that justice and charity are intimately connected, and that justice is false without charitable love. In fact, he implies that charity is actually the foundation for justice.

He explains this by focusing on one central aspect of charity, of love: giving a gift. It seems that justice, which is a relationship in which someone owes something to someone else, is always a result of a gift, a free act which establishes or alters a relationship.

That's kind of abstract. Let me give a few examples.

Let's look at babys. It's hard to deny that parents owe their children the sustenance and support needed to grow to adulthood. Children have a right to such things as food, clothing, shelter, education, and so on. Parents who do not adequately provide such things for their children are called "child abusers" and are subject to legal coercion. And yet, what has the baby done to "deserve" these rights, to essentially put his/her parents in debt to him/her? Nothing -- except to receive the gift of life which those parents freely gave to him/her.

Okay, so some might object that parents are not perfectly free in bringing a child into the world, for a variety of reasons. I will not argue that point just now. But what about a couple who marry each other? Surely there is no constraint or obligation on either toward the other. No one can make me marry anyone in particular, nor force me to marry at all. However, once the spouses do marry, they discover that they are obliged to one another. Infidelity, to take the most obvious example, is (among other things) unjust to the spouse. It's a matter of justice: a wife has a right to demand faithfulness from her husband; and vice versa. Even though the law continues to distance itself from spousal obligations, we still recognize that an unfaithful husband does wrong to his wife.

Well, maybe some kinds of justice are based on a gift, but are all forms of justice? Well, let's take the example of a worker who is offered a job. Here is an exchange of gifts with different kinds of freedom on each side. Sure, the employer needs workers to do business, and the worker needs income to support him-/herself; but neither is under any constraint or obligation to arrange for this particular person to be given this particular job under these particular arrangements. There is a sense in which a worker's agreement to do the work and the employer's agreement to compensate the worker is an exchange of gifts, because each is free in offering something to the other. But based on this exchange of gifts, real issues of justice arise: a worker who does not fulfill his/her obligations, or an employer who does not properly compensate his/her workers, wrongs them.

What about criminal justice? Is there a gift involved at the foundation of rights to property or safety? Isn't the city, or the state, or the nation, obliged to provide protection for these things? This may be a bit more subtle, but here is where B16 provides an insightful perspective: gifts not only require the freedom of the giver, they also require, perhaps even more so, the incapacity of the receiver to make, or take, or require the gift. So, my capacity for health or safety or ownership of things is not something I can acquire for myself. It is not something I can earn or "deserve". I cannot give myself life; all I can do is take care of the life I have, and protect it. I cannot give myself intelligence or freedom or the other faculties needed to own property or interact socially; all I can do is use the abilities -- often explicitly called "gifts" -- I have to live in society. We do not make property or health or safety; we only use and take care of what we receive as given to us.

As St. Paul asks, "What do you have that you did not receive?" The answer, literally, is: nothing.

It is only after we have received what we have not made and have not earned that we can speak of justice, of what is due or owed, of rights and responsibilities. Of all the many profound insights of this encyclical, the logic of gifts is what has struck me most deeply.
Rabbert blathers on....

A God, by any other name, would be as divine?

This may only be of interest to Christians, but I'm very interested also in how non-Christians would respond.

My friend Sherry posts some thoughts about how American Catholics (and maybe others, but she's speaking from her direct experience) seem reluctant to use the name Jesus in their prayer or in speaking about their faith. Here's a quick quote:

We talk incessantly about the Church. But not about the Lord, Savior, Redeemer, and Head of the Church. Not Jesus. Not by name. Not spontaneously without the liturgy to give us "cover". To do so, seems so naked, so unsophisticated, so pietistic, so what - Protestant??

I am not the only one who has noticed this aspect of American Catholic culture. A Catholic scholar friend of mine has mischievously coined a memorable phrase to describe it: Jesus is "He who must not be named".

Meanwhile, in my own spiritual journey, I've noticed a tendency toward using what I think of as God's "full name": Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And the Vatican Congregation for Divine Worship has asked that the name given in the Old Testament, usually Englished into "Yahweh" (or "Jehovah"), not be used in music during mass.

My first observation is that this emphasis on the importance of names, whether to be used or to be avoided, seems to be a feature of Abrahamic religion. Observant Jews do not pronounce the name of God, and some even avoid the common (though capitalized) noun, spelling it G-d. Muslims have a meditation on the ninety-nine names of Allah, which they recite in a manner similar to the Catholic rosary. Christians have the famous passage from St. Paul (Philippians 2.9-11):

Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

But I'm not aware of any such devotion to the Buddha, or to any Hindu or Celtic or Germanic or Native American deities. I don't know of any particular attention among the Romans or the Greeks to the name of Jupiter or Zeus. My neo-pagan friends are fond of using various and multiple names for their ideas of the divine or supernatural, but seem to have at most a personal devotion to one name or another. (I'd welcome correction if I'm missing something here.)

I don't know what conclusion to draw from this observation, except the obvious one that names are very important for Christians and for the Abrahamic religious tradition.

Next, I suppose I want to admit that I found Sherry's post quite challenging. Having grown up in the Pacific Northwest, where any religion is preemptively suspect, I have a gut-level reluctance even to mention that I am Catholic, to say nothing of bearing witness to the name of Jesus, my Lord and my God. I've noticed the name of Jesus appearing in my prayers more at some times and less at others. My current meditative practice (when I take the time to meditate) usually involves a simple repetition of his name. But I almost never say the name of Jesus aloud, or in the presence of others.

I'm not sure how exactly to answer this challenge. On the one hand, I want to be unafraid and unashamed of Jesus and his name. On the other, I know that, when many people hear his name, it raises all sorts of false or distracting or painful associations. I've often described my sense of vocation as preparing the way for Jesus, so that when people hear of him they recognize him as they one they have long desired. But am I merely capitulating to the fear of offending someone?

In any case, your input is most welcome.
Rabbert blathers on....

The coersive, pervasive, unavoidable propaganda engines of the Vatican

Yes, the Vatican, which controls all media outlets everywhere and directly controls the minds of its slobbering zombie subjects via microchips implanted in what's left of their brains ...

... somehow failed to make a big splash in announcing the Pope's new encyclical, Caritas in veritate.

I'll let you know what I think of it once I've read it.
Rabbert blathers on....