As I reported in my last post, I have recently been to Rome for meetings at the Vatican. A new graduate studies institute is being created, with the formal approval of the Holy See, which will focus on all matters related to diakonia and the renewed diaconate in the Catholic Church. The Institute of St. Lawrence has been founded by three deacon-professors: Deacon Dr. Enzo Petrolino of Italy, Deacon Rob Mascini of the Netherlands, and myself.
The new Institute will be headquartered at the Lateran University in Rome, with courses being taught at several of the other so-called "Pontifical" universities as well, such as the Biblicum, the Angelicum, the Augustinianum (or Patristicum), and so on. The courses will all be taught for graduate credit, and are not designed for those in formation for ordination, unless those candidates already have significant theological background and are pursuing either a Master's or Doctorate. In short, any person who is eligible for graduate education in Theology is welcome. The goals of the Institute are quite simple: to provide an opportunity for advanced research on the diaconate, and to create an archive of such research to support future scholarship.
Students will be able to proceed in one of two ways. They may either take all of the courses offered over a three-year summer program and obtain a Master's degree in diaconal study from the Lateran, or they may take courses to be applied to an existing program at another accredited institution. For example, if one of our graduate students at Santa Clara University wishes to take a couple of the courses and apply those credits to their program here at Santa Clara, that will be perfectly fine. All of the Institute's courses are fully accredited.
Each course will consist of significant work (background reading, research) prior to coming to Rome for a one week intensive seminar; normally, there will be lectures in the mornings, with afternoons free for research, group study, and other activities related to the course. Then, after students leave Rome, they prepare a major research paper or project. We intend to offer three of these one-week sessions each summer for a three year cycle. So, if a student simply wants one of the three courses, that's fine; if they wish to do all three (!) then in theory they could stay for the whole three weeks.
The Institute will be launched in June 2013 when we begin our first courses. Once the dates and other course information is finalized in a month or so, I will be publishing the information extensively through the USCCB, Deacon Digest, and a variety of other sources.
This is an exciting project and I ask for your prayers for its success.
Oh, and while I was walking down the street one day in Rome, this white golf cart pulled up. . . .
Monday, March 19, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Preghiamo, tutti!
As I write this, I'm at JFK International. I just finished giving a couple of talks at a Deacon Convocation nearby, and now I'm preparing for a flight to Rome later this afternoon. I ask for your prayers as my colleagues and I finalize some details for a new graduate Institute of Advanced Studies on the Diaconate in Rome.
The Institute will bring together scholars from all over the world who will teach graduate courses on every aspect of diakonia and diaconate. Archeologists, theologians of every specialization, canon lawyers, and so on are all welcome. Each course will involve extensive preparatory work, often online, before coming to Rome for a one-week long intensive seminar. Each student will then prepare a research paper after Rome. The opportunity in Rome will include lectures offered at the appropriate pontifical university (for example, courses on the spirituality of diakonia would be offered at the Teresianum), the opportunity for fellowship and social interaction with students from around the world, and access to significant research materials available in Rome and the Vatican.
The three "founders" of the Institute include a deacon-professor from Italy, another from the Netherlands, and myself. The Institute has already been granted an official "recognitio" from the Holy See, so the courses will be offered for credit either through the professor's home university, or through the Lateranum.
I'll post as I can over the next week, but for now I simply ask for your prayers!
The Institute will bring together scholars from all over the world who will teach graduate courses on every aspect of diakonia and diaconate. Archeologists, theologians of every specialization, canon lawyers, and so on are all welcome. Each course will involve extensive preparatory work, often online, before coming to Rome for a one-week long intensive seminar. Each student will then prepare a research paper after Rome. The opportunity in Rome will include lectures offered at the appropriate pontifical university (for example, courses on the spirituality of diakonia would be offered at the Teresianum), the opportunity for fellowship and social interaction with students from around the world, and access to significant research materials available in Rome and the Vatican.
The three "founders" of the Institute include a deacon-professor from Italy, another from the Netherlands, and myself. The Institute has already been granted an official "recognitio" from the Holy See, so the courses will be offered for credit either through the professor's home university, or through the Lateranum.
I'll post as I can over the next week, but for now I simply ask for your prayers!
Monday, February 27, 2012
Wandering in the Lenten Desert
In my 62 years of life, all of which I have spent as a Catholic, including more than a quarter of a century of Catholic education from elementary, secondary, undergraduate and graduate schools, this Lent feels the most dismal of them all -- at least to me. There is so much that is absolutely grand and wonderful in our Catholic expression of Judaeo-Christian faith! All of the efforts of so many good people: lay persons who give of themselves over and over again for the good of their neighbors; religious women and men who are dedicated to the visions of their founders in prayer and outreach; the many dedicated people of all states of life serving on parish, diocesan, national and international staffs doing their best to help. The bishops, deacons and priests who are good, normal, down-to-earth pastoral and loving men who want only to be the best ministers of the Gospel they can be.
And yet, so many of the human elements of the institutional side of the church have succeeded in tarnishing, trashing, and for so many people of good faith, demolishing the whole experience. The Church is so much more than the "institution", as Jesuit Avery Dulles always stressed, but it is this external edifice that usually draws the most negative attention to itself. And it is often those externals that have affected our families, our friends, and ourselves most significantly. Is it any wonder that so many people find peace in saying that they are people of faith, but that they are not "religious"? We can try to correct that view by saying that religion is more than the externals, but those words can sound awfully hollow and false to someone suffering great pain at the hands of external religious practices and authorities.
America magazine's associate editor Kevin Clarke recently wrote a very thoughtful piece for the Washington Post, which can be read in its entirety here. Clarke writes in part:
I have the sense that we Catholics, this Lent, have some serious soul-searching to do during this period of Purification and Enlightenment (as we refer to it in the RCIA). Anyone who has followed the blogosphere or any number of media outlets covering the latest scandals, the latest lawsuits, the latest public debates on religious freedom realizes that it is not only WHAT people are saying that is so disturbing, but HOW they are saying it! Is this REALLY how Catholic Christians should engage in the kind of serious, reasoned discourse that our contemporary world -- and its amazingly complex realities -- deserves? How does this kind of public behavior reflect the inner transformation that should mark our ongoing metanoia as people of faith?
Specifically for readers of this blog (assuming there are any! LOL!): how can we deacons best serve the common good of all peoples? How can we find ways to reconcile and unite rather than continue the vitriolic alienation of good people who are simply trying to do their best with their lives?
In Hebrew numerology, the number 40 is always associated with a period of human preparation and testing for a mission. It is, in a way, a kind of spiritual "boot camp" to prepare people for what is to come next. The forty years the Israelites wandered in the desert on their way from slavery into the freedom of the Promised Land were to help prepare them for their new covenant with God. The forty days and nights of the great Flood were to prepare the people for the new covenant with God. The forty days Jesus spent in the desert being tempted were to prepare him for his own public ministry.
May our own desert wanderings this Lent help us find ways to move from the slavery of our own passions, anger, resentments and pain into a Promised Land of freedom of the Christ who came to reconcile all things, to heal and to save. We need that Light today more than ever, not the Darkness that seems so often to be engulfing us.
And yet, so many of the human elements of the institutional side of the church have succeeded in tarnishing, trashing, and for so many people of good faith, demolishing the whole experience. The Church is so much more than the "institution", as Jesuit Avery Dulles always stressed, but it is this external edifice that usually draws the most negative attention to itself. And it is often those externals that have affected our families, our friends, and ourselves most significantly. Is it any wonder that so many people find peace in saying that they are people of faith, but that they are not "religious"? We can try to correct that view by saying that religion is more than the externals, but those words can sound awfully hollow and false to someone suffering great pain at the hands of external religious practices and authorities.
America magazine's associate editor Kevin Clarke recently wrote a very thoughtful piece for the Washington Post, which can be read in its entirety here. Clarke writes in part:
Outsiders are locking miters with the U.S. Catholic bishops, but inside the church itself a creeping factionalism accelerates the animus. On the left, Catholic “progressives” mock the bishops, seeing them as a crooked gang of celibate old men making rules for women; and on the right, conservative firebreathers continue their scorched church policy, offering new directions toward exit doors for Catholics caught in the middle. See these Christians: how they love to fight each other.
This is not what I signed on for. Where’s all the good stuff that used to energize me about being Catholic? Where’s all the feeding of the hungry, the clothing of the naked, the caring for the sick, the loving as we have been loved? Where is the community gathered to break bread not heads? The broader secular culture already regards us as somewhere between delusional and dangerous, we seem to be hurrying to confirm that diagnosis.Speaking for myself at least, I find Kevin's reflection an exact echo of my own feelings this Lent.
I have the sense that we Catholics, this Lent, have some serious soul-searching to do during this period of Purification and Enlightenment (as we refer to it in the RCIA). Anyone who has followed the blogosphere or any number of media outlets covering the latest scandals, the latest lawsuits, the latest public debates on religious freedom realizes that it is not only WHAT people are saying that is so disturbing, but HOW they are saying it! Is this REALLY how Catholic Christians should engage in the kind of serious, reasoned discourse that our contemporary world -- and its amazingly complex realities -- deserves? How does this kind of public behavior reflect the inner transformation that should mark our ongoing metanoia as people of faith?
Specifically for readers of this blog (assuming there are any! LOL!): how can we deacons best serve the common good of all peoples? How can we find ways to reconcile and unite rather than continue the vitriolic alienation of good people who are simply trying to do their best with their lives?
In Hebrew numerology, the number 40 is always associated with a period of human preparation and testing for a mission. It is, in a way, a kind of spiritual "boot camp" to prepare people for what is to come next. The forty years the Israelites wandered in the desert on their way from slavery into the freedom of the Promised Land were to help prepare them for their new covenant with God. The forty days and nights of the great Flood were to prepare the people for the new covenant with God. The forty days Jesus spent in the desert being tempted were to prepare him for his own public ministry.May our own desert wanderings this Lent help us find ways to move from the slavery of our own passions, anger, resentments and pain into a Promised Land of freedom of the Christ who came to reconcile all things, to heal and to save. We need that Light today more than ever, not the Darkness that seems so often to be engulfing us.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Sorry for the silence
Just a brief note: I am sorry that I have been so remiss in posting anything here lately! Not only have things been particularly busy in my ministerial and professional responsibilities, but we have been dealing with some family matters that have demanded attention.
So, I ask for your prayers and understanding.
I hope to be blogging more regularly shortly!
So, I ask for your prayers and understanding.
I hope to be blogging more regularly shortly!
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Marking a Wonderful Milestone
While personal and professional obligations have kept me from blogging over the last couple of weeks, I hope to get back on track soon. I could not, however, let the day pass without honoring a most significant date in Church history.
On this date, 25 January 1959, 53 years ago, Blessed Pope John XXIII announced his intention to convoke the Ecumenical (General) Council which would come to be known as the Second Vatican Council. You can read an excellent take on this event HERE. What is interesting, and quite disturbing, however, are some of the negative responses about the Council found in the comboxes following the article! As someone who lived through and studied the Council ever since, I find the misconceptions and downright disinformation about the Council that exists "out there" to be most appalling.
Most scholars of the 21 ecumenical councils recognized by the Catholic Church agree that it takes many decades, perhaps 100 years or so, for a Council to be "received" substantively. If that's accurate, we're only about half-way there!
Keep the Council alive!
On this date, 25 January 1959, 53 years ago, Blessed Pope John XXIII announced his intention to convoke the Ecumenical (General) Council which would come to be known as the Second Vatican Council. You can read an excellent take on this event HERE. What is interesting, and quite disturbing, however, are some of the negative responses about the Council found in the comboxes following the article! As someone who lived through and studied the Council ever since, I find the misconceptions and downright disinformation about the Council that exists "out there" to be most appalling.Most scholars of the 21 ecumenical councils recognized by the Catholic Church agree that it takes many decades, perhaps 100 years or so, for a Council to be "received" substantively. If that's accurate, we're only about half-way there!
Keep the Council alive!
Sunday, January 8, 2012
"But I can't see Jesus": A Reflection on the Epiphany
For nearly the last time this Christmas season: Merry Christmas!
Today, of course, is the great celebration of the Epiphany. The Greek word means "manifestation" or "showing"; in the Eastern part of the Church, the feast is called the Theophany,which means "manifestation of God." Unfortunately, we often find our communities focusing their attention on "the Three Kings" and miss the larger vision behind it. Certainly, the story of the magi coming to give homage to the Christ is the heart of the Gospel, but the fact behind the magi is that God has manifested Himself to the entire world in the child Christ. This was brought home to me this morning at the first Mass of the day by one of the most astute of our parishioners: a little girl sitting with her family.
This morning, our nativity scene near the front of the church was completed with the addition of the figures of the three kings. After the Opening Collect, as we were all sitting down for the first reading, this brilliant child turned to her mother and said, in a clear voice, "But I can't see Jesus!" Exactly! The Epiphany is about seeing God in Jesus.
Two things were brought home to me through our young parishioner.
First, what do I/we have to do to help her see God in Jesus? What would we do, in practical terms? We could, for example, lift her up so she can "see" better. What can I do to "see" the Christ better? Just as I might have to "stretch" to "see better", how must I stretch myself spiritually to see the Christ? How can I help others to stretch themselves? At the same time, what is obstructing the view? How might I be able to remove those obstructions? It's all about seeing God in Jesus.
Second, God wants to be a part of lives. God comes to us and is visible to us. The truly remarkable thing is that the all-powerful, all-loving God could come to us in any number of ways. God chose to come to us in the most vulnerable way imaginable: as a human child. Just we find ourselves drawn to this child, we should be finding ourselves drawn to God-With-Us ("Emmanuel" = "God with us").
Finally, we can see this spelled out in the Profession of Faith, the Creed. Nearly everyone realizes that the English word "creed" comes from the Latin word "credo": "I believe." However, not as many people know that the word credo itself comes from two other Latin words: cor (heart) and do (I give). Literally, when we pray the Creed at Mass, we are saying, "I give my heart to Almighty God. . . , I give my heart to Jesus Christ. . . , I give my heart to the Holy Spirit. . . ." Think of when we might use that expression in our daily lives: it's focus is on the relationship involved. The Creed, therefore, is not some list of theological propositions that we treat as some kind of "Christian check list". It is, rather, a cry from the heart about the relationship we put at the heart of who we are: our relationship with God.
"I can't see Jesus": Let's do all we can to remove the obstacles to our relationship with God, to stretch ourselves, and to help others do the same!
Today, of course, is the great celebration of the Epiphany. The Greek word means "manifestation" or "showing"; in the Eastern part of the Church, the feast is called the Theophany,which means "manifestation of God." Unfortunately, we often find our communities focusing their attention on "the Three Kings" and miss the larger vision behind it. Certainly, the story of the magi coming to give homage to the Christ is the heart of the Gospel, but the fact behind the magi is that God has manifested Himself to the entire world in the child Christ. This was brought home to me this morning at the first Mass of the day by one of the most astute of our parishioners: a little girl sitting with her family.
This morning, our nativity scene near the front of the church was completed with the addition of the figures of the three kings. After the Opening Collect, as we were all sitting down for the first reading, this brilliant child turned to her mother and said, in a clear voice, "But I can't see Jesus!" Exactly! The Epiphany is about seeing God in Jesus.
Two things were brought home to me through our young parishioner.
First, what do I/we have to do to help her see God in Jesus? What would we do, in practical terms? We could, for example, lift her up so she can "see" better. What can I do to "see" the Christ better? Just as I might have to "stretch" to "see better", how must I stretch myself spiritually to see the Christ? How can I help others to stretch themselves? At the same time, what is obstructing the view? How might I be able to remove those obstructions? It's all about seeing God in Jesus.
Second, God wants to be a part of lives. God comes to us and is visible to us. The truly remarkable thing is that the all-powerful, all-loving God could come to us in any number of ways. God chose to come to us in the most vulnerable way imaginable: as a human child. Just we find ourselves drawn to this child, we should be finding ourselves drawn to God-With-Us ("Emmanuel" = "God with us").
Finally, we can see this spelled out in the Profession of Faith, the Creed. Nearly everyone realizes that the English word "creed" comes from the Latin word "credo": "I believe." However, not as many people know that the word credo itself comes from two other Latin words: cor (heart) and do (I give). Literally, when we pray the Creed at Mass, we are saying, "I give my heart to Almighty God. . . , I give my heart to Jesus Christ. . . , I give my heart to the Holy Spirit. . . ." Think of when we might use that expression in our daily lives: it's focus is on the relationship involved. The Creed, therefore, is not some list of theological propositions that we treat as some kind of "Christian check list". It is, rather, a cry from the heart about the relationship we put at the heart of who we are: our relationship with God.
"I can't see Jesus": Let's do all we can to remove the obstacles to our relationship with God, to stretch ourselves, and to help others do the same!
Monday, January 2, 2012
"Only a deacon": A New Year's Reflection on the Role of the Deacon
In a couple of months I will celebrate 22 years of service as a deacon. The photo at left was taken during the Mass of ordination, with Cardinal James Hickey of the Archdiocese of Washington, DC as principal celebrant, Fr. Jack Smith who was my pastor at the time and Fr. Tom Henseler, a friend of mine for many years, as concelebrants (Fr. Tom Kalita was also a concelebrant, but he's not visible in the photo). Even though this photo is from the Concluding Doxology of that Mass, with me elevating the chalice next to Cardinal Hickey, it brings back so many wonderful memories of that day and of the entire ordination ceremony.
One of the parts of that ceremony includes the bishop asking a series of questions of the candidate, so that he is assured that the candidate is free, ready and willing to assume the responsibilities of the order to which he is to be ordained. In conjunction with that, I've been thinking about the number of times over those years that I've heard the expression "only a deacon."
-- "Since you're only a deacon, what can't you do that Father does?"
-- "Oh, he can't do that -- he's only a deacon."
-- [sometimes even deacons get it wrong]: "Oh, I'm not a leader; I'm only a deacon"!
Some years ago a friend pointed me to a wonderful homily preached at the ordination of deacons. This ordination was within the Episcopalian Church, and the bishop-homilist was Bishop John W. Howe of Central Florida. Just as within the Catholic Church, the bishop was about to ask his ordinands a series of questions. Here's what the bishop had to say:
So, having just celebrated the feast of St. Stephen last week, all of us -- and in particular, deacons -- can take a good lesson from the bishop's homily. And don't let me ever hear any of you say, "I'm only a deacon"!
Merry Christmas!
One of the parts of that ceremony includes the bishop asking a series of questions of the candidate, so that he is assured that the candidate is free, ready and willing to assume the responsibilities of the order to which he is to be ordained. In conjunction with that, I've been thinking about the number of times over those years that I've heard the expression "only a deacon."
-- "Since you're only a deacon, what can't you do that Father does?"
-- "Oh, he can't do that -- he's only a deacon."
-- [sometimes even deacons get it wrong]: "Oh, I'm not a leader; I'm only a deacon"!
Some years ago a friend pointed me to a wonderful homily preached at the ordination of deacons. This ordination was within the Episcopalian Church, and the bishop-homilist was Bishop John W. Howe of Central Florida. Just as within the Catholic Church, the bishop was about to ask his ordinands a series of questions. Here's what the bishop had to say:
“In a few minutes I’m going to ask the ordinands this question: “Do you believe you are truly called by God and his Church to the life and work of a deacon?”
This isn't one of the questions we get asked in the Catholic Church, but it's a good one! The bishop went on in his homily to describe the work of those first two men traditionally associated with being deacons: St. Stephen (the protomartyr) and St. Philip, who's stories are found in Acts 6-8. St. Stephen, of course, is described as a powerful preacher and witness of Jesus Christ, who ultimately is martyred for his strong preaching. St. Philip is described as being filled with the Holy Spirit (like Stephen) and being led by the Spirit to various place to catechize. In particular we find Philip with the Ethiopian eunuch, explaining the scriptures to him and, at the official's request, baptizing him before being led by the Spirit someplace else. The bishop continues:
So: in the stories of these two men, Stephen and Philip, I suggest we have the beginning, at least, of the job description of a deacon. A deacon is to be: a person of good reputation, full of the Holy Spirit and of wisdom, full of grace and power, with a servant’s heart, available to God for menial tasks, or to confront the authorities, speaking truth to power. A deacon is to be a channel for signs, wonders, healings and even exorcisms; an evangelist, a student of scripture, obedient to the promptings of the Spirit, willing to minister to the one or the many; blind to color, race, or station, courageous in witness, and faithful unto death.
If your answer to my question is “Yes,” I don’t ever want to hear any of you say 'I’m only a deacon.'
So, having just celebrated the feast of St. Stephen last week, all of us -- and in particular, deacons -- can take a good lesson from the bishop's homily. And don't let me ever hear any of you say, "I'm only a deacon"!
Merry Christmas!
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