Making the Rough Places Plain: On the Topic of Cancer

 May 5, 2025

Welcome, God and All...

No, that's not a typo error in the title.

In my most recent reflection, I got seriously pensive. I didn't share it to my social media page as I ultimately considered it negative from a circumstantial perspective.

Some things have changed. I won't take back what I wrote, as those words were thoughts I had at that moment in time. But some things have been made clearer. I don't feel like it's still Lent. There is hope, hope in which one can rejoice. Saint Paul wrote that hope does not disappoint, and when one recognizes this, possibilities are often within reach.

Points that I need to clarify. Yes, I have prostate cancer. Many men are 'afflicted' with it; I read somewhere once upon a time that as much as half the adult male population in the US of A have it. My father, upon learning the confirmed diagnosis from me, told me that he has it (he's almost 94 years old); and two of his uncles also had it with one of them living to the ripe age of 101. Some have no issues with it. In others, it can lead to complications which will have God send you His summons.

The diagnosis, confirmed in a PET scan, initially was vague, so I was referred to an oncologist (cancer specialist). When I went to see him, he confirmed the prostate diagnosis but said this had not spread elsewhere. Then we discussed treatment options. Hope showed her face again. Chemotherapy was set aside. So was the removal of the prostate. When I called my colleague who is the coordinator of the music ministry at one of the parishes where I serve (I had promised to give her an update in case I had to take time off), she asked if any surgical options discussed. My answer: Not unless you want a 70-year-old boy soprano in the choir, which gave us both a moment to laugh.

The path of treatment I am following is more for maintenance than for remission. The oncologist referred to this as hormone therapy, something to do with blocking testosterone which may be cancerous from exiting the prostate and affecting other organs. I receive an injection at the hospital (outpatient) every three months. Apparently to help it work or to prevent side effects, I take two oral medicines (in addition to what I'm taking for other ailments) daily. One is a highly controlled medicine that is provided through the hospital's pharmacy system and is delivered to me by courier from near downtown Chicago. That is taken almost immediately after waking up in the morning and is followed by a 2-hour fast, after which I eat and take my other morning meds. Side effects are supposedly minimal. I can't have grapefruit any more in any form. (I didn't have it all that often but would occasionally have a taste for it.) Before each injection, the oncologist will review blood tests to see if there is an improvement in my PSA levels. As with many other things in my life, I am guardedly optimistic that this will not put an end to what I do and am more or less planning accordingly.

There has been an update regarding the status of the parish merge that was supposed to happen in July. The parish faithful, after having an appeal denied by the local diocesan bishop, sent another appeal to the appropriate dicastery (read as commission or department) in Vatican City, that independent state adjacent to Rome, Italy that serves as the global headquarters for the Roman Catholic Church. Being the huge bureaucracy that is the Church (as well as its shadow, The Church, Incorporated) it was not anticipated that an answer to the appeal petition would be swift. So, how is this being dealt with? The merging parishes - for now - will remain two separate entities. However, the clerical assignment essentially will not change. The incoming pastor retains the title of pastor of the other parish and acts as parochial administrator of our parish. He cannot make substantial changes to our parish while the appeal is being processed. This doesn't mean he can't make any changes, so the title change is mostly cosmetic. What might happen versus what has to wait is up for discussion.

Add to this the passing of Pope Francis on April 21. All focus in the Vatican shifts during sede vacante (empty seat) or Interregnum (between the reigns) and only the most essential business is conducted, namely, the period of mourning and burial of Francis followed by the conclave to elect his successor, and then the formal installation of a new pope. And much like our American presidents appoint their particular Cabinet secretaries, the new pope has the ability to replace the heads of the various dicasteries as he sees fit, so a process that might take some time just got made longer. Some have indicated that our appeal may be hung up in cardinal red tape for up to a year.

And where does that leave me? Truthfully, at this point about the same place I would be if no appeal had been made. I have expressed to my colleague that my intention is still the same; and that I will serve as long as God allows. Which means, after much prayer and discernment, if my health gets the better of me, or the pastoral administrator or my colleague thanks me for my service but indicates it cannot continue, I am out. I want to be supportive but will not put up a fight to keep my position if that is the outcome. 

I am concerned for the staff that now doesn't know whether their jobs are safe or for how long. I have shared some thoughts about what questions should be asked and how they might be answered. The truth is, with 56 days left under the current pastor and structure, nobody really knows, including the diocesan representative overseeing the transition process. Because Easter occurred so late this year, most parishes involved in merging or amalgamations or closure haven't begun any of the internal processes they should have started in mid-February, regardless of the filing of an appeal. There has been considerable wailing and gnashing of teeth over the last year and, sadly, more is to come. But the delay can be seen as a cause for joy. Maybe, by the time it is finally resolved, the fight will have been worth it.

Meanwhile, the world speculates and makes commentary, and the President of the US of A is caught up in it. A journalist with an ounce of responsibility would never have asked Mr. Trump who he thought should be the next pope. Of course, he would choose himself and follow that up with an AI-generated image of himself dressed as the pontiff. Not an ounce of dignity or respect seems to fill his head unless he's at the center of it all. Enough said.

And so, the saga continues. But don't worry; be happy. Worse things have happened. I really do appreciate having no shame in asking for prayer. And I consider myself blessed to have the Divine Physician on my 'team'. I'll still have my moments, but I haven't walked this path for this long and not learned from it that God indeed has the final Word on everything.

Until we meet again, may God be with you - and may the risen Lord of Justice have mercy on us all...

+the Phoenix

The Post: The One I Don't Know How to Write

 April 17, 2025

Welcome, God and All...

If Lent seems a little later and/or longer than usual this year, it's not in your head. In 2025, Easter (the date of which is determined by the lunar cycle once past the Vernal Equinox) is about as late in the calendar as it gets, April 20. It's not an unusual occurrence in itself, but in a few of those years it seemed Lent didn't quite end with Easter Sunday.

In 1994, Easter came on the late side. I probably didn't notice it, because Lent seemed to unofficially continue that year, at least in my head. My colleagues and I were in the final phases of preparation for ordination to the diaconate when a new bishop was appointed for my diocese (the previous one having retired, reaching the age limit) and whether we would be ordained, or the last five years lost as a colossal waste of time, was his and his alone to decide.

Twenty years later, Easter came on April 21st and was immediately eclipsed by being unemployed only three weeks before, and my wife confined to bed. It was the last day she would hold a conversation with anyone. That night she suffered a stroke; ten days later, she crossed the bridge into eternity, where I continue to pray that she is in the arms of the Good Shepherd of all souls.

Easter is the great religious festival for Christianity, but like so many other religious observances it has become secularized, and in some cases treated as just another Sunday in the calendar. Families may gather, but the splendor of dressing in your best and often newest clothes along with the colorful bonnets adorning the ladies' heads are long gone. The candy children were urged to give up for Lent as a penance or offering is still devoured ravenously as on Halloween but has been replaced in some households by a basket of toys - and for the adult children, the basket may hold wines and/or cheeses.

Television networks would invariably broadcast epic movies. For the children, The Wizard of Oz, because of the vivid use of color in one of the first motion pictures to utilize color cinematography. For the adults, The Ten Commandments, Cecil B. DeMille's biblical masterpiece about Moses and the Israelites, the first 'celebration' of the Jewish Passover and their daring escape from Egyptian slavery through the miraculous parting of the Red Sea. Not anymore, unless you have the film in your personal library or subscribe to one of those premium "plus" services which happens to offer the film - if one can remember to look it up. (I did note that this classic was aired this past Saturday night, the beginning of Passover.) Now, in 2025, the observance of Christ's triumph over sin and death will compete with WrestleMania. All weekend long, from Thursday night through Sunday. Coincidence...not. Not that there isn't relative content out there. There has indeed been a resurgence of media well worth watching, spearheaded by The Chosen, now in its fifth season. It's premium stuff. You have to pay dearly to see it or wait months until it becomes more affordable. Even then, you have to have internet access in order to see it. A long way and a long time from the days Jesus' disciples were told that they received the Good News without cost, and were to spread the Gospel without cost.

Yes, we have drifted a bit - maybe a big bit - from things that remind us that there IS a God in heaven who is looking out for us and only asks that we acknowledge the same and help by looking out for others in return.

And not all the drifting happens at the hand of average Joes and Janes, nor is it the fault of would-be princes and kings - or even presidents who just can't wait to be king. A significant part of the drift is coming from a place one would least expect it.

The Church. More specifically, what I've been referring to as "The Church, Incorporated."

In recent posts to this blog, I expressed only a fragment of the sadness I'm seeing in myself and others. There was at first some faint glimmer of hope that somehow our prayers and petitions would reverse the decision to effectively scatter what remains of a faithful congregation whose faith is being put to the test, if it hasn't already been shattered.

One might think that, especially once that decision was announced, that somebody would address those faithful - and especially the paid staff and volunteers who interface with others in the course of their jobs or ministries - on the path that we are now forced onto. At the very least, to put what we're going through in the context of the weekly readings from Sacred Scripture. It's not happening. Those on the real inside have already taken other jobs elsewhere. If they're priests, they know their job itself is secure - even if they didn't know their next assignment, which they now have. No, the people in the pews - those who are still in them - are getting the same messages they would hear in any other year; those standard Lenten messages about repentance, fasting, almsgiving, conversion, and prayer, and the reminder that with Christ's Resurrection, all of our sins have already been vanquished. And yes, indeed they have been vanquished in Christ; what is conveniently forgotten is that Jesus never promised any of his followers an easy pass with no challenges. In fact, he indicated quite the opposite. Of his fourteen apostles, Judas took his own life. Matthias, his replacement, Paul the persecutor turned advocate, along with Peter and the rest were all martyred. All except John. He survived at least two attempts on his life and died in exile. One could claim he was martyred by the loneliness of being the last survivor of the original band of brothers. Challenges, indeed.

Speaking of challenges, since the beginning of 2025 i have gone from seeing two medical professionals and added three more. My primary care professional, upon seeing results from blood lab work to manage my diabetes, referred me to a nephrologist (kidney specialist) who has diagnosed me with stage 3a kidney disease. He notes that the PSA levels in my blood and urine samples are high, so he sends me to a urologist who runs another set of tests and tells me that I have cancer of the prostate, which is untreatable and incurable. He then wants to make sure that the cancer hasn't jumped the fence to other parts of my 70-year-old body, so he orders a PET scan, which I completed a few days ago. Two days later, I get a phone call from the urologist's office, and the medical support worker kindly tells me the results aren't good. The only thing I remember in the conversation after that was that I was being referred to an oncologist (cancer specialist) whom I have yet to see. Two days later, the scan results were posted to my online chart. It was vague, saying that anomalies were seen and that cancer in those areas weren't confirmed but couldn't be ruled out. That's what the oncologist will have to determine. An appointment has been set right after the Easter celebrations, celebrations that may be much more muted for me this year than those of 1994 and 2014. I must rise above all this if I even consider myself a faithful disciple.

I summoned up enough personal courage to ask to receive the Church's sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick (see my previous post), and it has offered me some hope. In the middle of everyone else seemingly checking out of reality, I know of people and at least one priest who cares and has acknowledged his personal thanks for my service to the Church. Note that this does NOT include two pastors who both seem to be caught up in the 'business' of The Church, Incorporated.

As part of 'da rules' which Catholics are supposed to observe, I need to get myself in to receive the sacrament of Reconciliation (aka Confession). And I so want to make sure I am right before God. But I know these rites can take time, and it seems that every time I know I want to do this, so do enough other people that there is a long line. Not hundreds, that would seem nearly miraculous - but even twenty is enough for me to respect those who are there and try to pick a time when I don't have to compete with others or the clock, especially with my son in tow. This time I don't know how to approach what my heart tells me I need to confess. I don't feel this belongs in the hands of a priest I don't frequently see; he might not understand where I'm coming from. I don't know if I feel comfortable with the two pastors I mention above; the one has basically removed himself from the reality of the situation of the merging of his parish, and the other knows The Church, Incorporated too well. I'm afraid I could turn repentance into an indictment since some of the remarks he made upon being transferred to my old home parish last summer indicate that he didn't want to be relocated. But for me, time is running out - and the clock is ticking, for how long is still God's knowledge and not mine - and it just needs to be done, end of story.

I consider myself blessed because there is this slight ray of hope plunging into the darkness around me, and I don't want to miss Holy Week services this year (as we were forced to in 2020 due to the COVID pandemic) because it seems almost certain that it will be the last I will celebrate in my current capacity. This time I may struggle to keep my composure while proclaiming the Resurrection of the Lord with the dignity and emotion this act deserves and demands. It has to count on so many levels, some of which are my own.

If you've read this far, dear friend, know that I thank you for your thoughts and prayers. It's all I ask for. At the moment, it's what I need most. Whatever God wants of me, may I be ready to give that to Him and that I might not walk this path completely alone. And with any blessing, I hope to be able to share that portion of the Good News with you.

Until we meet again, may God be with you...

+the Phoenix 

The Post: It's All Downhill From Here, Part 2

 Welcome, God and All...

I have had a few days to deliberate whether or not I should reflect here or make recent events more public knowledge. Many a scammer have been known to prey and capitalize on those suffering even the most seemingly trivial things. Still, there is the call of God to ask in order to receive, seek in order to find, and knock so that the door may be opened. 

In Part 1 I indicated that I would pray that God steady the momentum or the steepness of this journey down the mountain. So far, He has - but this ride is still close to the peak, and there may be many twists, turns, and steep drops coming that are as yet unseen. What I do know is I must rely on His grace more than perhaps I ever have; more than I perceived I would during all that happened and began eleven years ago today.

Most of Part 1 had to do with the decreed merging of the parish I've served for over twenty years. While something of a lifeline was added to the decree, I have since gained an understanding of what a "worship site" status is. According to Church law, a worship site is required to celebrate Mass only twice a year, usually on the feast day of its namesake and on the anniversary date of its consecration or opening. As I mentioned in that post, the worship site is maintained and staffed by the designated (in this case, other) parish church.

An appeal was sent to the diocesan bishop, which was our right under Church law. It was summarily denied. While the bishop indicated that the new entity should make efforts to keep a regular schedule of services at the worship site, it is completely up to the priest (as yet unnamed) who will become pastor of the newly merged parishes in July. Our next step in the process is to take our appeal to the appropriate dicastery (court, if you will) at the Vatican in Rome. It's happening as I write. We are still holding onto some hope as we await an answer.

Still, I believe our chances of having the diocesan bishop's decree overturned are slim. I am coming to believe that I see the end of this chapter in life ending soon; and not just because the odds don't appear to favor us. It also generally holds that those places designated as worship sites close within a year, simply because there are no priests available to staff them.

It seems like an eternity ago, but it's been three years since I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. It was strange hearing at the time, especially since I do not know of any history of diabetics in my family's medical history. I believe it's easier to develop diabetes because of the mass production of prepared foods designed to make life easier. I know this was one thing Diane tried to steer us away from before her own health issues got the better of her.

Because of this diagnosis, I am now seeing doctors on a consistent basis, to monitor my glucose levels and, as it's turning out, assessing what this is doing to the rest of my earthly body. I contracted diabetic retinopathy, requiring injections in my eyes periodically to prevent vision loss. I am also seeing a kidney specialist, who tells me as nicely as he knows how that my kidney functions are slowly failing and has prescribed further medication to help support them. On top of it all, recent blood tests have indicated trouble with my prostate. A further, more detailed test confirmed that I have prostate cancer. It's not treatable. It's not curable. I will undergo a procedure called a PET scan next week to determine if the cancer has spread to any other organs, particularly the pancreas or the liver, for if found there it can spread rapidly.

I have already let a few people know about my diagnosis, and I have prayed that God guide me through all this. As I indicated before, I intend to see some things through to their ultimate conclusion as God permits. I have asked others to pray for me, and I am asking you, dear reader, to do the same. It is about all I can ask for.

I intend to ask one of the priests I'm serving under that I wish to receive the Church's sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick. Note that this can be received as needed; it's not a one-time thing like 'last rites' would be (although there are many similarities). One does not have to have a priest come to a hospital to administer the sacrament; it can be done in the church if the recipient is able to get there and does not have a contagious disease. I also believe that a deacon can administer the basic form of this sacrament (with the exception of combining the sacrament of reconciliation within this rite). And yes, I know it may inconvenience somebody, but I want this enough to ignore that factor to the simplest degree possible. I will go to the mountain, since I am able to do it. But who to ask, and how to arrange it is where I am momentarily stuck. Your prayers are helping me here, so thank you in advance!

Eleven years ago, on my son's birthday, I came home to 'celebrate' the awful news that I had become unemployed, and my life's path was suddenly plunged into chaos and darkness that would take weeks to emerge from. I have asked God not to let these recent developments spoil my son's birthday this year, nor the celebrations of Holy Week and Easter, which are likely to be my last in my current situation. Only God knows what lies ahead. Again, Lord, I understand this to be a cross you have presented to me. I accept it as such and even embrace it to the best of my ability. Remain with me and do not let me become overwhelmed by all that surrounds me, except for the superabundant love you have always offered me.

So, until we meet again, may God be with you...and may God have mercy on us all...

+the Phoenix

The Post: Fame Can Turn on You Quickly

 (from my archives, March 24, 2018; updated March 24, 2025)

Welcome, God and All...

One thing that’s consistent in a (rapidly) changing world is how fast human thought and expression can turn completely around among the masses. We need look no further than President Trump or FB’s founder Mark Zuckerberg to see examples. Now it’s easy to think that because of nearly instant access to the latest sound bytes in the Information Age, reaction time is equally near instant. The accounts of Jesus’ Passion and Death in the Gospels, with all the detail they contain – even though they were written roughly fifty years after the events – convey a similar sense of instant reaction among the masses. Of course, there were groups of people with privileged access, people “in the know”, who discussed, analyzed, made judgments, and planned action. The moment it became known to the general public, any reaction was generally swift. How else can we explain large crowds cheering Jesus as he entered Jerusalem for the last time, only to call for his crucifixion four days later?

A glance at the major characters, all seeking their disproportionate level of fame at the center of perhaps the most chaotic times in all of human history, reveals weaknesses we still have to this day.

Judas Iscariot – the weakest link in the chain of Jesus’ inner circle. Certainly, he had become confounded, but more so than the others. On one hand he complains that it’s a waste of money to have expensive ointment poured on Jesus’ body; but he’s really beginning to think Jesus has lost focus, so he is an easy target for confrontation and manipulation by…

Caiaphas and Annas – As high priests they held sway over everyone who claimed to be devout Jews. What Jesus did and taught and preached did not fit in their presumed profile of God’s promised Messiah. Because of that, they saw him as a threat to themselves, using the Roman occupation of the time as a plausible argument and excuse. When they finally confront Jesus, of course it’s his elimination they want. But they’re supposedly bound by their own law, especially as it’s the high feast of Passover; so, they force themselves into a flimsy alliance with the Romans and…

Pontius Pilate – who would rather be anywhere other than Judea, because the empire’s attempts at keeping the peace has generally gone down the path of futility. He sees through Caiaphas’ passing the buck and tries to expose it. When that fails, he offers a choice, hoping that the cheering crowds of only days ago might exonerate the charges against Jesus; but even this gets confounded to where I’ve observed the possibility of the question raised by Pilate to the crowds sounded like: Which son of the father shall I release to you? In the end, fearing that news of further Judean unrest would travel fast to Rome (as ultimately it did), Pilate sentences Jesus to death by crucifixion.

The eleven remaining Apostles, as well as any other disciples within sight who might have come to Jesus’ defense – largely fled. John would somehow manage to witness his master’s death. Peter – who was the Type A in the group for better or worse – denied knowing Jesus. Judas, realizing he was made a puppet by Caiaphas, took his own life. Saint Mark’s account has a young man resisting arrest or restraint, and escapes, naked, into the night. Tradition holds that this streaker is Mark himself.  

Jesus – after three years of speaking, he becomes silent. Now we might make reason for this because a) in his humanity, after all the torture suffered before his execution, there was virtually no opportunity to think, and certainly no real time to answer in his own defense; and b) in his divinity, Jesus knew what was coming, had known it for all eternity, and was obedient to the will of his Father to the last.

As noted above, I made this reflection in 2018; two full years before I had even heard of the now successful streaming video series The Chosen (and a full year prior to the series' debut). Now about to release its fifth season on the events of Holy Week from Palm Sunday through the Last Supper on Holy Thursday, I have been watching and re-watching the series from its beginning. While the writers have used non-biblical subplots to tie the Gospel accounts together (and rearranged a few lines here and there without severely affecting their impact), it is still the story more people are talking about instead of trying to ignore. Because of the 'extra' material, you won't find the Church's seal of approval, the imprimatur, among its credits. Nor is it likely to win a coveted Emmy award despite some of the best performances I have seen on-screen.

Comparing my thoughts to my experience watching The Chosen, I find it interesting that my quick character study isn't far from the vision that Dallas Jenkins, his creative team, and the talented actors and actresses have brought to the screen. While I have been passive on some of the fan hype, as the long-awaited new release is imminent, I am truly anticipating what is about to come, the stuff of the most tragic event in the history of the world. And it would be, too; were it not for what followed. There are many events in history, both general and personal, that we would want to forget; and others that manage to be forgotten. There are events that have claimed thousands upon thousands of lives. This event, and its aftermath, would reclaim all life – for God.

How quickly can our fame and fortunes change!

Until we meet again, may God be with you...

+the Phoenix

Community Building

 March 3, 2025

Welcome, God and All...

I was recently asked by a colleague and friend, What is the reasoning in your mind that makes it worthy of driving forty miles to worship God every week? (Or words to that effect.)

It's a question worth considering.

Nearly a century ago, when fewer people were on the road, so to speak, churches were seen as the centers of community. In neighborhoods and hamlets across America, even in her biggest cities, at your church everybody knew your name, and vice-versa. You were part of the action because that's where the action was. Local congregations saw themselves as one big (and usually) happy family. Sure, there were always passionate differences of opinion, but that's been around since Cain 'lost' Abel (and that's an extreme example).

That all changed about 75 years ago. We became mobile. We went where we pleased, and it wasn't necessarily the church or synagogue of our choice - and for many, it wasn't even a choice. The 'day of rest' ordained by God for His glory was becoming a day of leisure. Fast forward to today, and that sense of leisure has taken the driver's seat. In the wake of the COVID pandemic it seems to be a neat thing to worship the God who meets you where you are in the lap of leisure - via cyberspace, at home, in your bathrobe. And that's IF you even choose to recognize God's presence in our lives. 

We can place blame on any number of things for the decline of church attendance and participation. A tight economy that makes it difficult to give the traditional 10% charitably. So many agencies and causes that need and seek out your discretionary income. A lack of meaningful catechesis or treading the unsettled waters of heretical thought. But that didn't hold back the church communities of the 1930s and earlier. They too suffered economic hardships, the specter of warfare, loss of life from natural disasters and catastrophic illnesses, and yet they thrived! They believed God was with them, and through their prayers, they were able to meet their challenges and grow through them.

Elsewhere in these pages I have written about my own sojourn in the desert, seeking to make an impact. As an impressionable teen and young adult, I saw the majority of folks symbolically pat me on the head, saying "that's nice" when I wanted to find my way to making friends, a major building block in community building. Then there were the one or two opportunists who wanted to grab more attention for themselves and exploited my talents for their own hoarded benefit. It would be easy to become disillusioned over that. I can't say I wasn't - doubts and the like are everywhere in life. I did discover one important thing in all of that, though. For me, to be honest about my shortcomings and concerns and to express them did more to find community than trying to assimilate by attempting to be something I am not.

The community I am among right now knows me. They welcomed me as a stranger in their midst and made me feel as one of their own over the course of time. At a time I really needed community - the sudden loss of so much eleven years ago - they were there and rallied around me. I thank God for them. I do what I do well, and some things I do not quite so well, to praise God and serve him through this community.

Sadly, this community is being broken up. It's happening because statistics and measurements indicate the community is no longer viable or sustainable, and there is nobody to spare to guide and spark sustainability, no resource available to breathe life into it. We're supposed to be consoled through the words of Christ through St. John: "Do not let your hearts be troubled...in My Father's house there are many dwelling places" (John 14:1-2a), a passage read at funerals. Hey, we are not yet dead! (Monty Python, Spamalot)

The Church exists so that people can thrive and grow spiritually by building community. When you revert to statistics alone to prove stability or lack thereof, I believe you take God and Christ out of the picture. Nothing can thrive without that divine presence, that journey together to make life better for the many and not the few. Does the Church have ALL the answers? In my innocent youth I thought so. I know now that it doesn't. I mean, Jesus reminds us that all who remain faithful to his word, mission and ministry will find and build community and peace. But you can't measure it in the long or short term. Pope Francis has cautioned that relying on too many things of this earth - those things measured by trends and statistics - can lead us to stagnation and instability. That mindset turns community into another disposable asset of what I call the "Church Incorporated", and a disastrous outcome is at the end of that road.

The Church's Number One priority is to spread the Good News of Jesus Christ. Her assets are not in how many attend or how much revenue is generated year-over-year, but in the faithfulness of her members who get the work done. They build the community by attending to the sick, feeding the hungry (physically and spiritually), consoling the sorrowful, and welcoming the stranger in their midst. They serve each other by acknowledging God's glory in prayer, art, and music; by setting a holy example for their children and neighbors. During the Roman persecution of the 3rd Century, when Pope St. Sixtus II was martyred, his Deacon, St. Laurence, was summoned by the Roman magistrate and ordered to surrender the "treasure of the Church", he liquidated the material assets, gave the proceeds to the poor, and presented those poor as the Church's treasure, which indeed they were. He understood that the Church was the house of God for the People of God and knew what the business model was - just as Christ had outlined it in the Gospels.

Jesus promised St. Peter (who was far from sainthood at the time) that his Church would stand firm. Peter would have an integral role in building the early Christian community, as would St. Paul and all who would follow them...including those struggling to maintain community in the world today, including me. I pray God continue to sustain us in our fight to maintain our identity as a community, faithful in Christ; wherever this takes us, be it where we are, or five blocks or 500 miles away, or half a world away.

That's my answer, and I'm sticking to it. You might find some further support in the 1990 Christian anthem, For the Sake of the Call by Steven Curtis Chapman. I know I did, every time I questioned my reasoning over living out my vocation. (Look it up on YouTube.)

Until we meet again, may God be with you, and may God have mercy on us all...

+the Phoenix

The Post: It's All Downhill From Here

Welcome, God and All...

Following last year's "Summer of Surprises", there was a flurry of activity surrounding the Targeted Restructuring of nineteen Catholic parishes in the Diocese of Joliet.

As part of the process required by Church canon law, 'listening' sessions were held to obtain input from potentially affected parishioners. One might expect that these meetings were not cordial, and I was not surprised. Many attend meetings like these and come away from them thinking that no matter what input was given at them, it was noted but never intended to be acted upon.

Then the committee assigned by the diocese presented its potential scenarios. Of four presented, only one would keep the parish I have served for nearly 25 years open. Petitions were developed, and everybody and anybody was asked to sign them, especially in lieu of our unique apostolate to the workers in the many office buildings within the parish boundaries. That was in November and early December. Then the Christmas holidays were upon us, and the waiting began. In early January an announcement came that there would be a delay in the decision by the diocesan bishop. Was it a ray of hope?

Last week, just before Saint Valentine's Day, that decision was announced. Not only that, but the explanation that the bishop accepted the committee's recommendations without exception. He had also presented this decision to two diocesan oversight boards, which unanimously agreed with his decision. This, after having spent "much time in discernment and prayer" (which in reality was less than two weeks' time).

Last summer, when the announcement came that my parish was considered for restructuring, many of us - myself included - prepared for the worst. The scenarios presented last fall confirmed that the worst was likely a done deal. 

And so it was. There was one concession. While we are merging with a nearby congregation, and their campus is the designated church, our campus will not be closed permanently but remain open as a "worship site" - only nobody really quite knows what that means. It will still be three months before a new pastor is assigned to this "new" entity, and he will have the final say on how much our campus will be utilized. Staffing will be important. Where there were two sets of staff operating two facilities, now there will be only one. Will there be a second priest assigned to the parish to assist the new pastor? Or a deacon, who could at least preside over a Communion service during the week. Nobody knows right now. What I see as optimal is that the daily Mass at 12 noon would be maintained (or replaced by said Communion service) for the benefit of those faithful office workers. Maybe one Mass on the weekend for the local faithful; but that depends on whether or not there is an available priest... and all that hinges on the yet-to-be-named pastor. Meanwhile a transition committee consisting of parishioners from both campuses will form and meet to discuss these and other matters to present to the new pastor once he is named.

I don't fit in any of this, as I wrote last summer. I have looked at other parishes with multiple sites - there's one such parish in my own hometown - and there's only one music ministry that covers services at both. All staff positions in this merge must apply - or reapply - if they intend to have a job in the new entity. And that's for regular staff, which would include the director of the music ministry. Outside of the people I have worked with over the last few years, I am an unknown. I would not be applying for the director's position, as I am underqualified. Cantors are, in many parishes, a volunteer ministry. I was very fortunate to have served in a place that paid well for my work. That is all up in the air now. The only way I might have in is if the director I currently work with is hired and calls upon me - and if the new pastor was willing to continue to compensate me. Then there's the fact that I commute forty miles round trip to do this, which I'm sure would have an unknown pastor who doesn't know me scratching his head.

As I wrote last summer, I have been planting some small seeds in my older stomping grounds, places where people know me. And to that end I am busy with a lot of volunteer leadership. Yes, I am happy for it, and I may be able to adjust things to live with less income - but I am still concerned. There are challenges even here - a group I lead offered a weeknight session that another gentleman had volunteered to cover, only to bow out after the holiday break. I had already committed to the schedule dates and times for the spring sessions, so I responsibly am covering them both.

If this were not enough, life is getting more and more complicated. A gentleman at the parish who I was fairly certain would be called to work on this transition committee died just days ago. A local Methodist church I visited periodically some years ago because I had musical friends there; a campus built less than twenty years ago, is closing its doors at the end of February. Some of their woes are similar to ours - declining attendance and tithing revenues. Their issues run deeper - a schism has developed in the Methodist church because of progressivism. American Methodists wanted to allow same-sex marriage and "gay" clergy but were seriously and surprisingly outvoted by African congregations.

Healthwise, my son and I are stable and trying to deal with the things we've known about for the last several years. But these twists and turns create stress and anxiety i can neither ignore nor sustain. Add to this the uncertainty of just about everything the news cycle spews out each and every day. Are we really as bad as we look on television? Is that how God sees us from a distance?

I can assure you that I turn these matters over to God in prayer daily. I know it is not perfect. I often multitask while I am at prayer. Some say that's okay; others say that it's wrong in a big way. The latter group often quote biblical verses which state that if you don't focus on God alone your ticket to heaven won't get punched. But the interruptions - those real and those contrived - have been impossible to overcome.

And to all this, my sister - who really has been a Godsend to both my son and me (and who herself is dealing with health issues and so forth) - she tells me that I worry too much, and that God will provide. I see in my behavior patterns that my worrying and other attributes takes after my dear mother, God rest her soul. That God will provide is something I know but need reminders.

I am praying that the ride downhill does not become like a runaway freight train. I will survive the crash only if God steadies the momentum.

Until we meet again, may God be with you...and may He have mercy on us all...

+the Phoenix

The Post: The Slaughter of the Innocent

Or: If Only We Could Leave Off The 'S' in the Title Above

December 28. 2024

(updated, originally posted on December 28, 2019)

Welcome, God and All...

There's a song for Christmas that was recorded a number of years ago by 1970s pop icon Barry Manilow called "Because It's Christmas." Like most of Manilow's sentimental ballads, the song strikes a figurative chord that somehow still prevails in the Season of Light - it's a time of wonder and awe, especially for children. Our hearts are touched with a spark of that Divine Love the Christ Child brought to Earth, shrouded in the act of gift-giving and stuffed stockings. We see the smiles and hear the laughter, as the song goes, and there is that sense in those few fleeting moments that we are the people God meant us to be.

But all is neither calm nor bright. The news cycle makes us readily aware of that. If only we could see the smiles and hear the laughter. Instead, we are given harsh reminders that all in the world is not yet right.

Today (Saturday) the Church observes the Feast of the Holy Innocents. Holy Mother Church (Catholics often refer to their sacred institution as such) records Deacon St. Stephen, whose feast was observed two days ago, as the first Christian martyr. You can read his story in the book of Acts, chapters six and seven. His story is important, because the mantle of discipleship would pass from Stephen to his adversary Saul, who would soon become Paul, the apostle to the Gentiles. But there are others who suffered martyrdom for Jesus while he was living on Earth: John the Baptist (see Mark 6:17-29); and what the Church recalls today, the aftermath of the visit by the three Wise Guys from the East to the stable in Bethlehem (Matthew 2:13-18).

It was an act of cowardice, jealousy, and politics - yes, politics - that Herod the kings in their raging ordered the slaughter of innocent children and later, John. (I use the plural regarding Herod because there is a bit of uncertainty with the timing of the events and that several ‘kings’ of Israel/Judea went by that name. The apples didn’t fall far from the tree, in any case.) And it’s not the first time the Bible records such an act of horror; the Pharaoh of Egypt issues a similar order in Exodus 1:15-22, the scene on which we’re introduced to Moses, who will also escape death from the powers that were (Exodus 2:11-15).

I won’t hide the fact that there are those among us today who have little but contempt for life other than their own. This contempt has sown seeds of confusion through modern-day humanity, scandalizing the institution of marriage and the concept of what love is and does, and what love requires. And yet we dare to put another spin on taking an innocent life, calling it “reproductive rights.” It’s hard to wrap this with any sort of compassion; that, too, is part of the confusion. Maybe that’s why even some of the best ministers and preachers tend to avoid the subject. It is a hot button issue that has, as we see here, not been limited to American history since 1973. It just seems more insidious now than it was in the time of Jesus and Moses, because of the way it’s presented and because the disdain for the dignity of life, especially defenseless life in the womb, has reached the lowest common denominator as well as the high and mighty.

I can’t say any more without using terms I would rather not use because they are so divisive. As I write, I can’t help but wonder if this isn’t at the root of how American politics and society have become so polarized, so at odds with each other. It would demand that we give up our joy, the joy I’ve kept in mind in rereading reflections written years ago. It is enough that I must approach the subject soberly and somberly. Do you think Jesus or the angels weep over this indignant injustice? I know I do. However, I’m reminded of the four pillars of Advent preparation - Peace, Hope, Joy and Love; represented by the four candles of the Advent wreath. The brilliance of the Christmas Star, the arrival of the Daystar, surrounds us with that great light of which Isaiah spoke (Isaiah 9:1). We see, then, that we the faithful are to be bearers of that light and carry it into every dark corner. That the martyrdom of Stephen and the Innocents are placed where they are in the calendar is a reminder to everyone of the lessons every generation must learn and not ignore; while at the same time we can see the smiles and hear the laughter; a foretaste and promise of eternal life secured on a foundation of five pillars with Jesus being the cornerstone.

If we don't want to lose that even fleeting moment of peace and joy, that momentary sense that all can be right in the world if we but allow God an honored place in our lives, we must become as innocent as the little children we love so very much. And we must resist and fight, with every fiber of our being, the denial of the Truth that God is THE Author of all Life; and as that gift of life has been invested in us, we must work actively as Life's stewards...

This time belongs to all the children

For now their joy rings through the air

So let us ask God's tender blessings

On all the children everywhere

To see the smiles and hear the laughter

A time to give, a time to share

Because it's Christmas

For now and Forever

For all of the children

And for the Child within us all

And until we meet again, remember that God is with us...always.

+the Phoenix