Seasons of Grace

Change Happens.  Ready or not!

 So it’s a good idea to get ready.  On Sunday, November 27, 2011—the First Sunday of Advent—the Catholic Church will implement changes to the Roman Missal, the book containing the prayers of the Mass. 

 Several times in the past few years, it has been my privilege to report from the scene at the Fall General Assembly of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.  I’ve watched firsthand as our shepherds pored over the translations, struggling to improve cadence and clarity and “proclaimability.”  The changes have been wrought prayerfully, and always with us—the faithful in the pews—prominently in the bishops’ hearts and minds.

 James Brieg, author of “The Emotional Jesus,” writes about the changes on the USCCB website.  Brieg quotes Monsignor Kevin Irwin, dean of the School of Theology and Religious Studies at The Catholic University of America, who cites two main reasons for the new translations:

• First, in the years following the Second Vatican Council, there was a rush to implement the changes from Latin into the vernacular (the common language of the local area).  After only a few years, they realized that some translations from the original Latin could have been more accurate.  The new Roman Missal attempts to more closely represent the ideas as expressed in the original translation, while retaining clarity and syntax.  Not an easy task—the bishops hoped, in the new translation, to achieve a suitable balance between the word-for-word, literal meaning of the Latin and the demands of good proclamation, style and intelligibility. 
• In addition, since the 1960s there have been numerous changes to the Church’s liturgical calendar.  For example, Padre Pio was canonized in 2002, and the prayers of the Mass for his feastday, September 23, will be included in the new Missal. 

 Some changes will be barely noticeable; others will require the faithful in the pews to be patient as we re-learn familiar responses.  But please, be patient! 

 In December 1963, Pope Paul VI promulgated the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, “Sacrosanctum Concilium.”  It was the first fruit of the Council, convened by Pope John XXIII to update the Church.  This document on the sacred liturgy was a source of great hope for the life and renewal of the Church.  The reform of the Liturgy was part of the grand plan of the Council Fathers “to impart an ever increasing vigour to the Christian life of the faithful; to adapt more suitably to the needs of our own times those institutions that are subject to change; to foster whatever can promote union among all who believe in Christ; to strengthen whatever can help to call the whole of humanity into the household of the Church.”

 Twenty-five years later, Pope John Paul II wrote in his apostolic letter “Vicesimus Quintus Annus”:  “The Liturgy of the Church goes beyond the liturgical reform. We are not in the same situation as in 1963: a generation of priests and of faithful which has not known the liturgical books prior to the reform now acts with responsibility in the Church and society. One cannot therefore continue to speak of the change as it was spoken of [in the past]; but rather one has to speak of an ever deeper grasp of the Liturgy of the Church, celebrated according to the current books and above all as reality in the spiritual order.”

 Our beloved John Paul the Great knew, as some today seem to have forgotten, that the Liturgy is not static; it remains always relevant, always leading the faithful in every generation toward greater union with Christ. 

 Baby boomers and older Americans will remember some of the phrases. 

• At the Creed, we will return to saying “I believe” rather than “we believe”—taking personal responsibility for our own statement of faith.  I sense that this will bear fruit in our hearts, reminding us that our profession of faith must be at once shared, and deeply personal.
• Responding to the priest, we will no longer say “And also with you.”  Instead, we’ll use the more accurate (and older) translation: “And with your spirit.” 

 Coming soon to your local diocese, there will be workshops, presentations, study guides to help you in your adjustment to the new Roman Missal.  Take advantage of these learning opportunities, and be prepared to welcome the next generation of “improvements” our bishops have served up for us.

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The internet has been buzzing this week, with rumors and reports about canon lawyer Ed Peters’ incendiary analysis of Canon 227 § 3, suggesting that permanent deacons (as well as Anglican priests who are being received into the Church and who embrace the Catholic priesthood) must abstain from sexual relations with their wives. 

The vitriol to which Dr. Peters’ assertion has been subjected is evidence that people feel deeply about this issue—“people” being, I think, not only the 15,000 permanent deacons in the U.S. and their wives, but also thoughtful Catholics who balk at the apparent injustice of this cruel surprise.

This seems a good time, then, to talk just a little bit about my life as wife of a deacon. 

First, regardless of the high esteem in which I hold both Dr. Peters and his son Tom, the “American Papist,” I’m confident that American deacons won’t be forced to choose between the diaconate and their marriages.   I say that because:

1. Celibacy is an imposed discipline, not a theological requirement as is the male priesthood; and as such, it is subject to change.  If canon law must be adjusted to right this error, then so be it.
2. Even before the Anglican Ordinariate or the special arrangements which have been made with a few priests (i.e., Fr. Dwight Longenecker and Fr. Ray Ryland), priests in Eastern Rite churches have been permitted to marry.
3. Deacons would do well to review St. Paul’s First Letter to Timothy 3:12-13, which states:  Deacons should be the husband of one wife; who rule well their children, and their own houses.  For they who have ministered well, shall purchase to themselves a good degree, and much confidence in the faith, which is in Christ Jesus.
4. Lastly, Dr. Peters may feel that canon law supersedes all things—but the Church is the repository of justice, and there really is an injustice in hitting all of these well-intentioned and godly servants with a big “OOPS!” and asking them to forfeit their marriage vows or leave their ministries.

 Deacon Greg Kandra blogs about the issue at his website, The Deacon’s Bench: 

 Well, now.  Does anyone seriously think that tens of thousands of married deacons — not to mention the hundreds of married priests — are now suddenly going to commit to stop having sex with their wives?  Does anyone think the vocation could even survive such a 180 degree turnaround?  The restoration of the diaconate is one of the great success stories of the Church in the last half century.  Do they really want to screw that up?

‘Nuf said.  Let me tell you what it’s like to live, day in and day out, with a guy whose faith has led him through five years of graduate study and four years of formation, who was buried in books and saddled with term papers for so long that it was sometimes hard to remember what “free time” felt like, and who then walked the aisle, knelt before the archbishop and heard this clarion call to mission:

“Receive the Gospel of Christ whose herald you have become.
Believe what you read,
teach what you believe,
and practice what you teach.”

First, he’s away from home—a lot!  My husband, unlike some of the deacons in his ordination class, actually holds a fulltime job in the Church as pastoral associate.  His diaconal service overlaps, of course, but adds yet another level of responsibility. 

Weekends revolve around Mass, RCIA classes, baptisms, special prayer services.   On weeknights, there are often meetings:  parish council, counseling sessions, baptism or marriage prep.  Sometimes, after all that glorious service, it’s hard for him to muster the energy for mowing the lawn, or puttering around the house, or going out to dinner.

When we were twenty-somethings, I think I’d have been jealous of his time away.  At this point in life, though, I accept our separations and revel in the hours we spend together.  When we finally sit down for dinner, we’ve both filled our days with meaningful activity, and our “couple” time—albeit limited—is enriched by the experiences and joys we each bring to the table. 

 Each Sunday, I attend Mass as Jerry serves at the altar.  In the minor elevation, the priest uplifts the host, and the deacon holds the chalice for all to see.  It is one of many proud moments for me, as I watch those arms—which rested casually on my shoulder in the morning—now hold the Blood of Christ.

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