Will & Grace...and the SSPX

 

I was just starting college when the NBC sitcom Will and Grace premiered in 1998. (Then) U.S. Vice President Joe Biden was quoted as saying that the sitcom "probably did more to educate the American public" on LGBT issues "than almost anything anybody has ever done so far". I was familiar with the show but didn't watch it regularly. It was also around this time one of my best friends in college came out to me as gay. Smithsonian curator Dwight Blocker Bowers stated that the sitcom used "comedy to familiarize a mainstream audience with gay culture" in a way that was "daring and broke ground" in American media. Which was certainly the case for me, as a 19 year old college sophomore. 

The fact was, there wasn't much resistance to the mainstreaming of gay culture, at least in the circles I was in. I had only been a Catholic for a year, and prior to that had no ideological opposition to homosexuality. My parents were pretty gay-accepting in general. I was starting to realize that there were a lot of "good Catholics" in our campus Catholic community who were active in retreats, mission trips, and service projects…and also gay. And I'm sure some of the priests were homosexuals as well. So for whatever reason, I never got the memo that there was anything inherently wrong about being gay, or living the gay lifestyle, as a new Catholic. 

For those not familiar with the show, Will (played by Eric McCormick) is a gay man who is a successful corporate lawyer who studied at Columbia University, where he met Grace (played by Debra Messing) as a freshman; they have been best friends ever since. He is very precise and obsessive when it comes to certain tasks, especially cleaning, dressing, and decorating. However, Will does have a very patient and compassionate nature towards those close to him, often to a fault. Grace--a straight, non-practicing Jewish interior decorator, is somewhat neurotic and relies on Will for moral and emotional support. The two secondary characters to these to primary ones are Karen, a wealthy socialite who serves as a Grace's assistant and has a penchant for food and alcohol; and Jack, a free-spirited and flamboyant gay actor who has been Will's longtime friend. All the characters are very likable, in their own way.

I don't think the mainstreaming of gay culture for the general non-gay public as a result of this pioneering show can be overstated. I have known many gay people like Will--good looking, successful, well-educated, caring, clean, nice, welcoming, non-judgmental, funny. None of those characteristics are antithetical to being a homosexual. In fact, I would argue, many of them are due in part to being someone who came from an underdog "class" (which homosexuals were up until the last half century). And aren't those admirable characteristics in any case?

Like many social minorities, gays had to prove themselves in a way--not that they weren't smart, capable, and able to be loving and compassionate towards others, of course. But it would not surprise me if they felt they had to work twice as hard to be accepted in a society that did not accommodate them, for their accomplishments and as people, and so they got really good and doing just that. They couldn't take anything for granted because they did not have that privilege. In many ways, I wouldn't be surprised if they took a cue from the epistle to Titus, "Your message is to be sound beyond reproach, so that any opponent will be ashamed, because he doesn't have anything bad to say about us" (Titus 2:8).

While I'm on the topic, an ancillary story that relates to this involves Elon Musk's father, Errol Musk, who called his son a “loser” and took the side of the bully who beat him up. “His father made him stand in front of him for two hours, while the father tells him he's a loser, that it was his fault.”  I think those kinds of traumas make an indelible impression on people, especially when they are young, that they spend a lifetime dealing with. There is this hole that achievement, success, recognition, solving the world's problems can never heal--and yet you keep trying, achieving, solving. At the end of the day, you're a billionaire genius that has advanced humanity...while your father still haunts you.

Now I don't want to speak for homosexuals, their psyche or lives, because I am not one and because like all things, there is great diversity among those in that population--it's not all Will and Jack caricatures. But I do have a theory that most gay people you or I know are "so nice!" or "awesome parents!", "more loving" or "less judgmental than most Christians" because they see Judeo-Christian morality as the father berating them for two hours for getting hospitalized by a bully. But in the end, they are going to beat them with their own hand. The wounding runs deep.

Now, I know this is going to be a jolting hard pivot given the subject matter, but the way I see the so-nice, uber-successful, less-judgmental, more-loving former minority of mainstreamed gays that rule the roost and make the rules in society today as having some parallels with the growing popularity of the Society of St. Pius X in the trad Catholic world. 

Most of my readers probably are familiar with the standing of the SSPX in the Church today, but for those who aren't, it can be hard to explain. The long and short of it is, they do not have a canonical status, and their ministers do not exercise legitimate ministries. Rather than get into the weeds on this very historical and complicated matter, I would point you to Cathy Caridi's Canon Law Made Easy blog here here and here to get some background education on the Society as it relates to Canon law (Note, I realize these links are outdated, but many of the information as a primer still stands, with a few exceptions).

The pandemic was probably the best thing that ever happened to the Society. During COVID, many newbie trads and trad-adjacent Catholics saw the SSPX keeping churches open when normie parishes were shuttering their doors left and right. Society priests could be heard speaking out against "the jab," and were bold and unapologetically Catholic in their teaching and their witness. The priests were solid, the liturgies were beautiful, and people were starting to get trad-exposed to not only the FSSP, the ICKSP, the Canons Regular of St. John Cantius, but the Society as well. Just as you may have trouble telling the difference between a Russian Orthodox or an Eastern Rite (Byzantine) Catholic liturgy (both use the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom) were you to wander into either, one might also struggle to tell the difference between these various traditionalist groups (and "trad-lite" in the case of the Canons Regular). And, if we're being honest, the SSPX is the O.G. of traditionalism, with Levebvrists predating the ICKSP and FSSP who were formed in response.

So, why wouldn't one just attend a Society chapel (they are not called parishes because they do not have a standing in the Church and are not part of one's local diocese) on Sundays since their priests validly celebrate the Latin Mass, are solid in their teaching, have evangelical zeal, and seem beyond reproach in their witness to the faith? 

Just as many homosexuals are "beyond reproach" in the externals of being "super nice," "extremely welcoming," "non-judgmental," "compassionate," "loving parents to children," etc. and may be better people than your own parents, friends, and family members, there is a problem: the Catholic Church still defines homosexuality as objectively and intrinsically disordered, and She has spoken:

 

"Basing itself on Sacred Scripture, which presents homosexual acts as acts of grave depravity, tradition has always declared that "homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered." They are contrary to the natural law. They close the sexual act to the gift of life. They do not proceed from a genuine affective and sexual complementarity. Under no circumstances can they be approved." (CCC 2357)

That means you can do all sorts of PR acrobats like Fr. James Martin attempts to contort around this point; but at the end of the day, you can't square it. While most of the world has largely ceded to the gay-affirming culture (which is no longer a "sub" culture), the only holdouts are those religious conservatives who in fact are not taken in by all the ancillary reasons for tactic approval of homosexual acts, homosexual "marriage," or mainstreaming homosexuality as simply a "different' lifestyle choice on par with that of heterosexuality. 

I have found, likewise, that there is this sort of cognitive dissonance in the trad world (that I myself struggle with as well)--a kind of sympathy to the Society that elevates them over the beige normie suburban parish Novus Ordo, all things being equal, while downplaying that their ministers do not exercise legitimate authority within the Church and have no standing. I've written as well about my own reservations over the marriage issue here. SSPX apologists will often point out that the ushering in of the New (Protestantized) Mass justifies an "emergency" situation such that because it puts the faith of Catholics in danger (that is, attendance at the New Mass), that one is under no obligation to attend it even if it is one's only option; ie, they are obligated to avoid it and stay home instead. In the eyes of the Society, the New Mass is objectively wrong. 

SSPX priests, and those who assist at SSPX masses, can of course be good and pious people full of charity and good will, and reverent in their worship. I know some. But to me, the Society as a whole seems like a form and growing sect of neo-Donatism, and because many of their priests and those who live out the Catholic faith under their auspices appear to be beyond reproach in their piety, knowledge of the faith, and devotion, it can be confusing to ordinary Catholics who may prioritize traditional worship over the other more stodgy issues (such as rightful authority to exercise ministry, and obedience and fidelity to the Holy See), even if that traditional worship is illicit.

For this reason, the SSPX is off the table for us, even though everything about them is attractive in a way for me. It's not just a "different" liturgical entity equal among others, but one that--at least at present--has not been reconciled with Rome and thus should, at the very least, been approached mindful of that fact. It's also very hard to articulate for the average Catholic, especially when you have very knowledgeable and passionate pro-SSPX apologists online green-lighting them, and cringey anti-SSPX hyper papalists doing the opposite.  

It's uncomfortable for me to say this, but I'd take the most banal beige and uninspiring Novus Ordo Mass over the most beautiful and inspiring SSPX TLM if it meant maintaining unity with Rome. I judge no one else for choices to the contrary. We will all go before God having to draw account. And no man can go against his conscience. 

More Thoughts On A 'Third Way' of Christian Discipleship

 I will be joining Eric Sammons tomorrow on his Crisis Point podcast to speak a little about my book but also to discuss my post "The Third Way" and the idea behind it. Since I haven't really articulated in note form what I want to talk about in the interview, I figured I would do so here.

2/9/24 EDIT: The podcast is live and can be streamed here. It took a little bit of a different direction than what I had prepared for here, but turned out to be a good discussion in a different way.

1) So, what is this "third way" of discipleship and how did you start thinking about this?

I wrote an essay five years ago titled "Tradition and Charity: The Face of Renewal" when we first started attending the Traditional Latin Mass as a family, and I've been thinking about the topic ever since. In that essay I wrote:

I think there is a tendency, in the age of identity politics, to delineate into false dichotomies. Those less traditionally minded--as seen in liberal churches, Catholic or Protestant--may compensate by being more active in parish activities, service, and social justice initiatives, while traditionalists are all about the Mass and not as concerned with those other things. I consider myself and my family more as guests in someone's house at this point when it comes to the Latin Mass community, so I don't feel like I have any right to make such judgments about a community that is not yet our own. But I will say one of the most important things, one of the primary motivators besides an integrity in worship and learning to subject my ego to Almighty God, is that we pass on the faith to our children, and I feel that the TLM community is the best place to try to do this in. 

On the point of charity, and why I think traditionalism combined with charity has the potential to be an unstoppable force for renewal...it wasn't until listening to a conference of Fr. Ripperger's that I realized that the 'love' in 1 Cor 13 is really more accurately translated as charity. I considered that kind invitation to attend a Latin Mass by that friend of a friend as an act of charity. I had until then considered the Latin Mass community to be more or less insular and an island of sorts by choice, not open to outsiders. All it took was an invitation to get us there, a kind of gentle and innocuous evangelization in its ordinariness. Coffee and donuts as a way of connecting with other families and homeschoolers once a month was an added bonus.

Coming from a more left-leaning Catholicism in my early years as a Catholic, serving the poor was an important part of my spiritual practice and faith, one that I have no intention of abandoning. I also do not want to fall into the trap of denigrating or comparing Masses or the people that attend them; though we have made the decision to attend the Latin Mass when we are able (which is most Sundays) because we feel this is where God is leading us as a family, I still attend the NO for daily Mass and have no qualms with it (unless there are serious liturgical abuses). I'm a "both/and" rather than an "either/or" guy at heart, I think, and this applies as much liturgically as it does to charity and service to the poor, evangelization, practicing the Works of Mercy, and loving people.

When it comes to loving, we love because He first loved us (1 Jn 4:19). The greatest commandment, the "Big Stone First", is to love the Lord God with everything we have. And yet we also see in 1 John that

Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also. (1 Jn 4:20-21)

So really a "third way" of Catholic Traditionalism is really Catholic Essentialism: taking the best of the best in worship and charity--since on this the two Commandments rest--in a "both/and" spirit (versus a kind of "either/or" false dichotomy). What I am calling "Third Way" Traditionalism is one kind of "complete protein": of prayer and action, worship and praxis, to make sure we are not just Christian believers or those who worship, but true disciples of Jesus Christ. 

 

2) What does this "third way" have to do with the Traditional Latin Mass and traditional Catholicism?

As I mentioned, I'm really a guest here, and I consider myself more or less trad-adjacent, rather than a true died-in-the-wool traditionalist. Our family attends the TLM exclusively, my son serves, my wife and daughter veil, yadayada but this is relatively recent for us in the past five years and I'm not about to tell trads what they should and shouldn't be doing. Maybe it is because I am an evangelist at heart, that I see this great potential for renewal in the Church with the rise of the TLM as a locus of authentic and reverent worship, a worthy vessel to bring people into the Church and experience the awe and majesty of God and what Catholicism really is. The TLM already does this effectively in a way in-bound marketing does: it draws you in and piques your curiosity, but doesn't pound you with ads or outbound marketing the way, as Shia LaBeouf mentioned in his interview with Bishop Barron, "it's not trying to sell you anything" [the way the Novus Ordo does]. If Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi is true (and it is), then we have a great foundation in the traditional Mass for building a faith on a solid rock of worship. But it can't end there. There's also that pesky second commandment our Lord slips in there. 

3) What do you see as the issues in traditional and more status-quo/mainstream Catholic communities today, respectively? Where are the blind spots or opportunities for growth for each?

The issues in your standard, down-the-street suburban Novus Ordo parish are pretty ubiquitous: you have these pockets of sometimes great devotion, prayer and piety among individual parishoners, but it's often in spite of, not because of, the parish environment. I don't want to speak for all people in this situation, but for me that was the case: it always felt like swimming up stream, fighting the parish current, to carve out a solid prayer life and something that went beyond the status-quo cultural norms of the N.O. and the particular parishes we belonged to; we felt like outliers, "extreme" religious, like we couldn't relate to people at the parish. So, I think there's this low-bar in many of these parishes that doesn't push people to grow spiritually outside the prescribed parish programs or proscriptions; these parishes can at the same time be very "active" replete with ministries, service to the needy, activities for seniors and retirees to get involved with and stay busy, and doing good things. 

So, when traditionalists see this stuff, there's kind of this pendulum reaction that anything associated with the Novus Ordo is suspect, and so the good things get thrown out with the bad. Like service to the poor and other acts of corporal charity, which of course is not "only" for your standard Novus Ordo parish and is not necessarily the stuff of SJWs.  The thing is, at least at our parish, we don't have a ton of these lay-led "programs" and I think that's a good thing. We have solid liturgy, good music, and an organic sense of community. But we shouldn't think either we are exempt from the work of discipleship, the works of charity and mercy, both corporal and spiritual. We are quick to signal to others that we are "trads" by what we wear, what we hold, how we pray, etc. But we should be more apt to show that we are Christians by how we love. For that's where converts come from.

4) You mention in some of your writings that you prefer to answer "I am a disciple of Jesus Christ" rather than "I am a Catholic" when asked about your religious faith, even though you are a Catholic. Why is that?

It's strange, isn't it, that we have to qualify everything today. Even though I'm more aligned in every aspect with traditional Catholicism, I'm still hesitant to refer to myself as a "trad" or "traditional Catholic." Because although I have been so thoroughly edified by the patrimony of the Church, which I have only been recently been introduced to and which I feel was withheld from me for 20 years as a Catholic since I came into the Church, I still feel there is this identity-thing, this tribe thing that is such a temptation to hold on to. But referring to oneself as "a Catholic" is a very broad term as well: well, what kind of Catholic are you? Are you a 'born-and-raised K-12 Catholic school but don't really believe any of that stuff' Catholic? Are you a Catholic on account of your cultural heritage (Mexican, Filipino, Irish, etc)? 

All that stuff is kind of ancillary as far as I'm concerned. God calls us not just to belief but to work, because Christ is our Master. And there's a lot of work to be done to rebuild and renew the Church, help save the lost, exercise charity, instruct the ignorant. A disciple is under a Master, and I feel that that is where I want my focus more than being a card-carrying member of a country club, or a member of a certain sect or tribe.   

5) What are some of the benefits for evangelization of the Traditional Latin Mass, and what makes it harder in other ways?

This was actually a struggle for me when I was doing street evangelization back in 2018, and it can really be a mixed-bag if you get someone interested in becoming Catholic, but it's like "where do you send them?" There's so many wacky RCIA programs, so many beige and uninspiring churches--not just the architecture, but the parishoners themselves--that makes you feel reticent to send a baby believer there.  Now, I know grace works anywhere God gives it, but for me that was part of the impetus of wanting to raise my family in a more liturgically stable environment, where you didn't have this anxiety about "what is the priest going to do today?" or "what are we walking into here?" When you love something, you want everyone to know about it, and that's how I feel about the TLM. The Mass is perfect, but we are not, and we need to accept that. But I still think it highlights Catholicism in it's truest expression, but needs to go beyond the liturgy and outside the walls of the church--to make saints. 

6) Do you consider yourself a Traditionalist? If so, why; and if no, why not?

I consider these labels a kind of necessary evil, and don't particular like them but it is what it is. Personally, I consider a true traditionalist someone who has a line in the sand, and I know many people like this who will not attend the Novus Ordo under any circumstances. In that sense, I do not consider myself a traditionalist because I will occasionally go to a daily N.O. Mass on campus on my lunch break, although I have not attended a Sunday N.O. in five years. I will drive 2 hours to find a Latin Mass if we are traveling rather than go to the local N.O. parish ten minutes away, but it's not because I think it's invalid or harmful to my faith. I was saved in the N.O., raised up in the N.O., and experienced grace in the N.O. So God can do what He wants, save whom He wants, use what He wants to accomplish that task. I will take grace wherever I can get it, even if I do personally feel more edified and that the Traditional Latin Mass is objectively "better" in every way than the Novus Ordo Missae. 

7) What do you mean when you speak of the traditional faith needing charity in order to be a "complete protein"? 

Matthew 22 and Matthew 25 are really the benchmarks for me in my spiritual life. It is there where Jesus distills the Decalogue into the Two Great Commandments--love God, love neighbor; and where he gives us a warning of how we will be judged by Him: on our charity. And that should fill us with fear. We will not be judged on which Mass we attend, or if we veiled, or that we are devoted to our missals. We will be judged on our love. Those who love God must love their brothers (1 Jn 4:20-21). 

What's so great about Catholicism is that it respects the both/and dimension of things: faith and reason, faith and works, scripture and tradition, fasting and feasting, God's divinity and God's humanity in the hypostatic union. Tradition is the best kept secret in the Church today. But it shouldn't be a secret! But it's not an end in itself. To the extent that it forms us in greater love of God and neighbor, it is doing its job. Otherwise, it's just a resounding gong, as St. Paul says. But when we love God and give him the best first fruits of worship, this sets us on a solid rock to build the house of charity. 

Look at saints like St. Leo the Great and St. Charles Borromeo, just to name a couple. They were high ranking dignitaries and prelates, yet were fully devoted to service to the poor. St. Leo said, "Let us now extend to the poor and those afflicted in different ways a more open-handed generosity, so that God may be thanked through many voices and the relief of the needy supported by our fasting. No act of devotion on the part of the faithful gives God more pleasure than that which is lavished on his poor. Where he finds charity with its loving concern, there he recognizes the reflection of his own fatherly care." And St. Charles during the plague fed tends of thousands of the hungry daily and saw the poor as his teacher.

But charity goes beyond just corporal charity--it is charity of heart, love. Love of God is tatamount, but sometimes trads can be a little....insular. Because it is comfortable to love God and uncomfortable to love people. 

I love the story of St. Aloysius when he came under the spiritual care of St. Robert Bellarmine. When he entered the Jesuits at the age of 17, Aloysius was appointed a spiritual director, St. Robert Bellarmine. Level headed and patient, Bellarmine listened to Aloysius describe his extreme schedule of individual religious practice, then ordered him to cease it. He was assigned instead to work at a local hospital tending to the sick and infirmed. Squeamish, he was repulsed by the work, and he disliked people, which is probably why he was initially inclined to his private devotions and mortifications. When the plague hit Rome in January 1591, the sick and dying were everywhere, overwhelming the hospitals, and Aloysius had to dig deep and draw on that Italian stubbornness and bulldog like willpower to stomach the work.

But in time, a transformation happened by God's grace. Though this was never work he would have chosen for himself, Aloysius began to see Christ in them, similar to St. Francis' encounter with the leper. He experienced compassion for the sick and dying, and often carried them from the streets to the hospital on his back. He contracted the plague as a result, and died June 21st, at the age of 23.

8) Do you get pushback from either more normie-mainstream Catholics or Traditionalists, or both?

I get it from all sides, haha. But I don't care too much. I'm too normie for the trads and too trad for the normies. But that's ok. I just want to love all people, and "be who I am, and be that well" as St. Francis de Sales says. I think it's good we push ourselves, and be honest about our blindspots, so God can make us into saints and we can get to work more effectively.

9) Why even make a "thing" of this? Isn't Traditionalism in its current cultural form enough? 

Well, that's a valid point. I see this "Third Way" between insular Traditionalism and status-quo Catholicism not as a program or an apostolate or even a philosophical school, but just as a consideration on how to worship better, love better, and work better in the Lord's vineyard. I want to live the fullness of the faith, and work out my salvation in fear and trembling, and I can't do that without a solid foundation for worship and without loving my neighbor, which is uncomfortable. To the degree that we take risks for the Lord in love and faith and devotion, I think He will honor that and give us the grace to make up for what we lack. But to the degree that we are content in our little camps, and not doing the work we are called to as disciples, I see that as an issue worth addressing. 

10) What do you see is the role of joy and hope today for both traditionalists and non-traditionalists alike?

People need hope to live, and joy is the icing on the cake. Joy attracts, just like the TLM has this strange in-bound pull effect on people, even non-believers. It's not trying to be what it's not; it's being true to what it is, unapologetically. That's attractive, just as joy is attractive and reflects beauty and God's nature. Hope gives us a reason to work, a reason to live, and faith that things will get better even if that happens after our death. Faith, hope, charity--these three. But the greatest of these is charity. 

11) In your blog post "The Third Way" you linked to two vocational videos: 1 for the Discalced Carmelites and 1 for the CFRs, saying "Both are powerful and moving; both inspire devotion and service to Christ. One order is traditional and contemplative; the other, more charismatic and active. Both are authentically Catholic.". What was the point you were trying to get across with doing that?

Listen, the Catholic Church is a big tent. Not everyone is going to love or be drawn to the TLM. That's just a fact. Our strength is in our diversity of charisms, and that has always been the case in the Church. St. Paul said as much, that an eye is not a hand, etc. The CFRs are solid guys, solid friars. Are they more charismatic? Sure. Does that mean they should be held in suspect by trads? Come on. These guys have a heart for Christ and the poor--would that we be more like them. The Discalced Carmelites in the video, as well, have this ethereal existence so devoted to the liturgy and the hidden lives of being contemplatives. We need both. That's the whole point of what I'm talking about in The Third Way--take the best and leave the filler. Love God. Love your Brothers. Love the poor. Build beautiful churches. Spread the Good News. These things are not at odds. Both/And. Both/And. We can't afford to leave grace on the table, or discount this group or that group because of ideological differences. Come on. Let's get to work. 

Tell The World About The TLM. But Let's Keep Homeschooling Our Little Secret

 

I've always considered myself a more-or-less "evangelical Catholic." I was radically saved by grace, and I'm always quick to want to show other beggars where the bread is. Because I'm grateful. When you love something, you want others to know about it. We don't hide Christ under a bushel basket (Mt 5:15)

This has extended to my liturgical leanings with regards to Catholic Tradition and how the Latin Mass has buyoued our faith and the expression of it in worship. I tell people about it, I encourage people to explore it, I invite people to Mass with us the same way a family did for us years ago. As I see it, Tradition and Charity are a force for renewal in the Church. I know there are probably factions that want to keep it the best kept secret in the Church, but I don't think that's the way forward. This is a good thing that people need to know about, and then make their own choices about. From 1998 to just five years ago, I didn't even know it existed. I think that's starting to change.

Attending the Latin Mass and homeschooling have always seemed to me like two sides of the same coin. But I am not so evangelistic about homeschooling. It has been a huge blessing to us, and I feel blessed we were led to educate our children from home. They are well adjusted, VERY well socialized, and learning what they need to learn in an efficient manner that leaves plenty of room for play. I didn't always feel this way, and was pretty resistant to the idea at first. But the fruits have been apparent. 

I do not feel the need, however, to tell everyone about how great homeschooling is. If anything, I want to keep it on the DL. This is mostly because the more it gets on the government's radar, the more I worry about government interference. Just leave us alone and give us the liberty to educate our children. Many pioneer homeschoolers worked hard to ensure that laws were amenable to homeschooling when it was just a blip on the societal screen. Now that it is becoming more common and mainstream, I worry that the government will ruin it like all good things with over-regulation or controlling what we can and can't do as parents. 

I pay my school tax bill (which is substantial) and don't use any of the public school services. That's fine, whatever, just leave us alone and let us file our initial affidavit and yearly evaluation and stay out of our business. Our children are doing fine, great even. I can't imagine sending them to a government school at this point, and the meager fruits of Catholic education make that a non-starter for our family as well. 

I'll continue to advocate for the Latin Mass and Catholic Tradition, because it bears good fruit and should be normative, not some scorned leper within the "synodal" Church. But homeschooling? It is literally the best kept secret that I feel no need to shout from the rooftops about. I'm glad more people are discovering it, but just maybe be discerning in who you tell about it, huh? I'm sure the government and school districts have noticed by now, but no need to poke sleeping giants.

You're Not A Trad

 

This post may be a bit of a stretch, but I'm going to write it anyway because it's been on my mind and because I have a habit of taking two or more seemingly incongruent topics and tying them together somehow so you're left saying, "Hm. Well that's one way to look at it." Ha. Bear with me, though, because there will be a few random floating observations and things floating around in the beginning.

Point 1

After spending five days on retreat in blissful silence at a proverbial trad "band camp" last week, I ended up experiencing some symptoms of liturgical indigestion when I attended a local men's conference I was invited to and gifted a free ticket for the day after I returned home. I arrived at the retreat center around sunrise to start the day with Adoration (which was a good start); there was a sizable crowd of men as well. Ok, so far so good.

After an hour of adoration, it was time for Mass. The celebrant was I guess some kind of well-known rockstar priest who had a penchant for being "hardcore" about some things. It was still early in the morning, and I was a little thrown off by his antics on the altar, which included a loud homily about "people who assume the posture of holiness really aren't," and how he feels that people who "act holy" are "hiding something." During the Our Father, he also abruptly stopped and chastised the men for "saying it too fast." He forced us through a slowed-down, deliberate way of saying it. I guess it bothered him, and he wasn't afraid to show it. Whatever, I guess?

This is not the first time I've experienced a 'showman' priest; in college, we had a (probably gay) priest from the local abbey who would get theatrical and make himself the center of attention. Another priest after college at the church I attended would use the Mass as a "teaching opportunity," which was well intentioned but felt disruptive. In both these instances, and at this men's conference, I felt like the versus populum orientation of the New Mass feeds into this kind of priestly narcissism. I also feel like because of the deficiencies of the New Mass vs. the Vetus Ordo, the priests celebrating the Novus Ordo can overcompensate with loud homilies and liturgical ad-libs because, well, they can. What I have grown to love about the traditional Mass is that the priest simply disappears. 

The Mass concluded with some truly awful OCP hymns; it struck me that the N.O is by nature much more feminized, even when there were no women present; it brought back memories of the strange embarrassment I felt when it came to the hymns especially while at Mass. Now granted, there were a lot of Boomer generation men there, so it's probably what they're used to.

All this to say, for the rest of the day when I got home, I felt a kind of 'spiritual indigestion' from what was just par for the course each Sunday in your standard suburban parish.  The Latin Mass has officially ruined me.

Point 2

When my wife and I were making every last effort to avoid yet another miscarriage after the birth of our third, we were referred to a fairly well-known Catholic pro-life doctor who was said to be able to help with fertility issues. The reality is that at this time my wife was already in her mid-forties and the chance of conceiving and bringing a pregnancy to term were slim (though not altogether impossible). This doctor immediately prescribed a no caffeine, no dairy, no meat, etc etc. diet, which I thought, "ok, this is a little quacky but whatever"). 

Years ago I had a bad experience with a Facebook acquaintance who was just trying to be helpful when it came to fertility issues, saying "avoid this, use this, don't do this..." Mind you, she had no medical credentials whatsoever, just struggled with infertility herself so I think it was personal for her. My wife was already in a kind of sensitive state, and though I suggested some of these things for her, I immediately regretted it--because then it becomes if you have another miscarriage, it's because you didn't do x, y, and z.. My wife doesn't deserve that kind of psychological sabotaging...it's hard enough losing a baby even without second-guessing yourself as to why. For the same reason I resented this doctor's insistence on some unfounded diet--95% of the issue, I think, was that my dear wife was simply in her mid forties and the chance of pregnancy (especially taking to full term) was slim. She kind of did the diet, the progesterone pills, etc for a few months and then because it sucked, just reintroduced all the no-no's and got back to our life.

Point 3

Every time we go to a Catholic gathering, somebody is bringing Gluten Free this-or-that. I don't know why. They are not in the 1% of people who have Celiac disease, but rather the 33% of Americans who are trying to eliminate gluten from their diet (for whatever reason). I think there is this belief that gluten is "bad" and that it contributes to either behavior or other health-related issues, but that doesn't really have any scientific evidence for. I have no idea. All I know is I love gluten and like most people, have no aversion to it. But GF is to the 2020s what the lowfat Snackwells craze was to the 90's.

I imagine people who truly do have a gluten allergy like celiac disease are happy people are bringing gluten intolerance into the public consciousness and making every restaurant chef hate his life, because now they have more choice, more options when they go out to eat or to the grocery store. 

Synthesizing Points 1, 2, and 3.

Ok, here's the thing: True Traditionalists are the liturgical Celiac sufferers; myself and most people I know who attend the TLM are like the 33% of the population who claim to need to be Gluten Free because somewhere we heard on the internet gluten=bad. 

A true Traditionalist will walk out of a Mass if they find out it is the Novus Ordo, or just not attend a funeral Mass or wedding Mass (or not receive communion), and will never attend the New Mass, ever. Call it a liturgical allergy or whatever--I'm not judging it, just observing. At least they are consistent.

The rest of us have a strong preference for the TLM, but if push came to shove we wouldn't stay home and pray our rosary if the Novus Ordo was the only option while traveling or whatever. We might have to suppress a groan-reflex while there, but we're not breaking out in hives or rupturing the lining of our stomachs, either. We wouldn't even have that option were it not those one-percenter trads that paved the way for what we enjoy on the menu now.  

I have at least been consistent in never claiming to be a Traditionalist, despite being 'traditional' or 'trad-sympathetic' or 'trad-leaning' or whatever you want to call it. I'm fine with that, and honest about it. I also find it annoying when people have some kind of axe to grind with Traditionalists, or are trying to make a name for themselves in the Catholic, Inc world by making strawmen arguments against tradition.

Because for a true Trad, I think there is a line in the sand you simply won't step over, and that is the line between the novus ordo and the vetus ordo. Although I find the novus ordo gives me liturgical indigestion, I'm not allergic. If you're starving on a desert island, your "gluten free" claims and preferences may quickly go the wayside if all you find is bread. Likewise, as I've written, the Novus Ordo may one day save your life. My attitude? I'm in desperate need of grace, and I'll take it wherever I can get it. And there is grace wherever the Lord is present. And He is indeed present in the New Mass.  If you'd "rather die" than attend the New Mass...well, that's on you I suppose. 

The Aspirin In The Applesauce

 

My family and I found ourselves subjects in an interesting liturgical experiment last night on the Feast of Corpus Christi. 

We attended a Latin Mass last Sunday at a mission chapel while on vacation. The chapel is associated with a larger, multi-cultural parish that offers Masses in English, Spanish, and Portuguese. When we were at the mission chapel on Sunday for High Mass (Trinity Sunday), an announcement was made that the bishop of the diocese gave permission for the Latin Mass to be celebrated in the "mother church" (I don't know what you would call it) that the mission chapel is associated with for the feast of Corpus Christi, and encouraged those in the Latin Mass community to show their support by attending. Since we are here on the Cape until tomorrow, we decided to attend as well.

The church was pretty full, and I'd say it was comprised of one-third Latin Mass people, one-third Spanish parishioners, and one third (Novus Ordo) English. I don't know how many people read the bulletin or were expecting the Mass to be in the Extraordinary Form, but the pastor of the church made an announcement prior to the start of Mass to let them know that "the Mass that your grandparents probably attended, and which has been celebrated largely unchanged for the past five hundred or more years" was what they were going to be witness to this evening. He explained that it was a little more 'precise' in mannerisms, and that no action within the Mass was extraneous or wasted; it all had meaning. Also, that Communion would be given on the tongue and kneeling. 

In any case, there were no protests and no one walked out. I suppose one could be accused of a kind of liturgical "bait and switch", but the congregation were more like docile, curious school children with a new substitute teacher for the day. It was a High Mass, and there weren't enough missals to go around (and, I would think, most would not know how to follow it either if it was it was their first TLM). 

Here's what was neat, though--it just kind of worked. People stood at the correct times when others stood, and knelt when they knelt. It was if the congregation was being catechized by osmosis. The homily was given in both Spanish and English. Despite the different cultures, there seemed to be unity. It was certainly foreign to some people, and I don't know how many were 'turned off,' but it didn't seem to be that way, even if it wasn't what they were expecting. For some, I imagine, it may have been like taking an Into To Liturgy 101 course during freshman year of college--you either have your mind opened up to another world you never knew existed, or you kind of just write your papers and take your tests to get through the class.

It was interesting in the sense that most people I know who attend the Latin Mass search it out, willingly attend and are drawn to the reverence and sense of the sacred. So, it's true it is a kind of "self-selecting" group in that sense. The New Rite, though, seems to have introduced a kind of 'liturgical preferancing' that in a strange twist, makes Traditionalists the ones who are accused of being preferential (for preferring the Latin Mass). 

This was a different population--the majority population of Mass goers of whom the New Mass is all they have ever known. They may even prefer it, or prefer the Mass in their own language, so I wonder if this liturgical "field trip" was unwelcome. But it didn't seem that way, at least from my place in the pews. I give the pastor credit for being willing to do a "Mass of exposure" to those who may not have otherwise knew it existed. We couldn't stay for the Eucharistic procession (it was/ late and the kids were getting rammy), but I would have loved to talk to people over refreshments after Mass to see what they thought. 

It's not likely the Latin Mass will supplant the Novus Ordo as the standard anytime soon given how invested it seems Rome is in the New Rite. And let's be frank: not everyone wants or prefers it. But were it the only option on the menu, I wonder if it would be one of those things where it would be good for the Church, the way a parent gives medicine to their children, or withholds a diet of sugary food for their family, for their long term benefit. How that works in ecclesial policy practice, I do not know. But I give the pastor of this church credit for introducing his culturally diverse congregation, at the very least, to the option for the Mass of the Ages by way of what for some might be their first exposure to it. 

Your Gay Neighbor

 

We are on vacation--it was 46 degrees last night; unseasonably cool for the beginning of June. We rent a little (and I mean little) cottage earlier in vacation season (one of the advantages of homeschooling) so we can get the off-peak rate. This area has resisted a lot of commercialization, and it hasn't changed much honestly since I was a kid. We love it here.

The guy we have been renting from the past few years has been really nice to deal with. He's accommodating, and has offered some perks (like a free night this year) that are very much appreciated since we are on a budget. We had my wife's niece paint a picture of the cottage last year (she is a graphic designer/artist) as a gift to him in appreciation for renting to us. He was appreciative of that as well.

I also surmised he is a gay man given a few magazines (not the explicit kind, just culture stuff!) we found around the cottage, the tasteful interior design and decor...and the Human Rights Campaign sticker on the front door. Of course that's an assumption. Gayness (or our family's religious affiliation) is a non-issue in our particular tenant/renter relationship. I reserve our week, send him a check, and communicate as needed via email or text. We're grateful he's so accommodating and easy to work with.

It's a similar situation at work. A good number of the faculty members I work with are gay, and they are also very nice to work with and pleasant individuals for the most part. Of course they have particular quirks, like all people do; that's normal. But again, that aspect of their lives doesn't come up a whole lot, at least in my interactions with them. I've worked with many of them for almost a decade now; never had any issues or complaints.

One of the things I liked most in Of Gods And Men is how the film showed the way the Trappist monks lived and worked among their Muslim neighbors. Even when their lives were being threatened by Islamic extremists, the Christian monks did not turn on their Muslim neighbors or caricature them as 'the enemy.' They were their neighbors, whom they have co-existed peaceably with for years and with whom there was mutual trust and the foundations of relationships. When you have to live with someone by circumstance for years on end, it can be akin to a kind of marriage--you just have to find a way to compromise, live together, and work things out, assuming there is mutual respect between parties.

"The first part of the film is idyllic, reflecting a decade of leadership by Father Christian (Lambert Wilson). The son of a distinguished French military family, he had been raised in Algeria and had fought in the Algerian war of independence on the French side. After entering the Cistercians, he dedicated his life to establishing a strong relationship with Muslims. Before joining the monastery in Tibhirine, Christian studied with the White Fathers in Rome, an order devoted to both African conversion and Christian–Muslim reconciliation. He often invited their Muslim neighbors to share meals and discuss their religious beliefs at the monastery. A student of the Quran, which is seen prominently on his desk, he noted that devout Muslims identify with the monks because they both had ritual daily prayers. He was often critical of his co-religionists, something that probably had its roots in his familiarity with prejudiced elites in France and Algeria. In addition, his great great aunt had been a member of the order of the Society of Helpers in the 1880s. Serving the sick poor and outcasts especially blacks in New York City and St. Louis, they fought against religious prejudice in the Church at the time (Kiser 2002). By the same token, many of his colleagues thought that he was too “sensitive” and loathe to criticize Muslims or the Quran." [1]

We would be naive and woefully misguided if we thought there were no orthodox men and women in the Church today who may happen to be same-sex attracted. Being an orthodox Catholic isn't a kind of litmus test where we stop people at the door to make sure they meet the qualifications to worship in the house of God; we are all sinners saved by grace. Orthodox means right belief. And belief comes from the individual themselves. So, to the degree with which their beliefs conform to that of the Church and they are sincerely trying to align their lives with that right belief, that is orthopraxis.

Case in point--we drove 30 minutes or so down the Cape this morning to attend a High Mass for Trinity Sunday at a small, simple wooden mission chapel. I'm at the point where I would drive three times that distance to worship in the usus antiquior, and especially while traveling. We have re-routed our already long drives in the past to hit up a ICKSP for First Saturday or Corpus Christi, and it is always worth the extra effort. I say that without feeling the need to denigrate the Novus Ordo. But the reality is I have developed a kind of liturgical anxiety when it comes to the random N.O. parish, because I never know what kind of situation I am walking into. With the traditional Latin Mass, there are no real surprises, and no nonsense. For the benefit of my family, and as the spiritual head of my household, this is a sacrifice I am more than willing to make to spare my children from the potential for unforeseen liturgical scandals. 

What's cool is that even though the Traditional Latin Mass is more or less uniform, there is still diversity within it. I loved seeing African Americans, altar boys with Downs Syndrome, young families and old timers. Even though we were travelers and guests at this particular parish community, we were neighbors in spirit and liturgy.

I also noticed at this particular Mass that two men around my age came in together just before Mass and sat in the pew in front of us. They were dressed similarly--white button downs and khakis. They could have been brothers, they could have been friends or military. But it's very possible they could have been a couple as well. From outward appearance, it seemed that they were unfamiliar with the Latin Mass, though they followed along well--kneeling when the congregation knelt, standing when they stood, etc. I'm always curious (not just with these two men) what people's "stories" are. But the fact of the matter is, it was none of my business. 

When it came time for communion, I noticed neither of them went up to receive. Again, that is none of my business, and could have been for a myriad of reasons--from potentially not even being Catholic but simply "curious", to not being in a state of grace, to simply not feeling disposed by conscience to receiving. They, like all of us, were there to worship God in a fitting manner. They disappeared quietly to their car after Mass. Not knowing their story, I prayed for their intentions and journey. 

Priests like Fr. James Martin do a great disservice to the Church and fellow Christians by their obfuscation and untruth--that the Church (or church) should and will change to accommodate those Catholics in the LGBT community. He--and those who abet such "accompaniment" when it is not grounded in the truth of the Church's teaching--fail to love them enough to tell them the truth. Must like our President, about whom my priest friend notes, "It's sad that no one ever loved him (the President) enough to tell him the truth (about his sacrilegious communions, among other things)." 

And yet, when we think about our gay neighbors, how do we accompany them with the lantern of truth? Being neighbor to them (as we are neighbor to anyone) precludes being high-horse, self-righteous jerks--judging, assuming, condemning, patronizing. In this Pope Francis is correct that the Church should be a "field hospital" for sinners, where we bring those in most need of grace to the font of Love and the source of Grace itself. We don't "make ourselves good" before we approach the Lord, or else no one would be worthy to approach Him, ever. And yet, there is something to be said to having the humility to know when we are invited to the wedding but aren't wearing the appropriate garments to enter (Mt 22:11-12). The story of St. Mary of Egypt is one such example. A public sinner, the lascivious harlot once brazenly tried to enter a local church when she heard a relic of the true Cross was being venerated, and was unable to do so by a mysterious (miraculous) force, which led to her contrite metanoia and a subsequent lifetime of penance.  

It is interesting that in Luke's Gospel, the 'expert in the law' who seeks eternal life and initially answers Jesus' question about the Greatest Commandment correctly is affirmed by Jesus by his answer. Yet the Evangelist describes the man as "seeking to justify himself" when he takes it a step further, asking "Who is my neighbor?" And it is here the Lord tells the parable of the Good Samaritan. The beaten man is passed over by a priest and a Levite, but a Samaritan becomes neighbor to him by caring for him and bringing him back to health and wholeness. "Who was neighbor to him?" the Lord asks. Being neighbor is not about slogans or our personal sense of cleanness, but action.  

I try to stress the point with my kids. Even today as we were driving in the car, and my son was asking about rainbow flags, I reiterated that we are called to "hate the sin, and love the sinner." That same-sex attraction is not part-and-parcel the same as lived homosexuality. That we are called as Christians to love, but not through pat, untruthful slogans ("love is love", etc) as those ideologically opposed to us spout to justify sin, but though preaching the Gospel in truth and charity. The reality of living in a fallen world, under a corrupt government, and among a diversity of people (atheists, Jews, Muslims, pagans, etc) was no strange thing to Jesus during his time. We are to give to Caesar what is Caesar's, and to God what is God's (Mk 12:17), to love our enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you (Lk 6:27-28). That can take some discernment in how that looks in real time and circumstances. But neighbor we must be.

There is a point when we must turn over to Satan for the destruction of their flesh those so blinded by their corruption for the good of their souls (1 Cor 5:5). But love also does not cross over to the other side of the street. Love is without deceit (Rom 12:9). Love does not judge the heart, which cannot be seen or known by man (Jer 17:9). Love is compelled by Truth. 

Sometimes people self-segregate (Chinatown, the "gayborhood," Crown Heights, Little Italy, etc) to be neighbors among those they share an affinity or culture with, and there's nothing wrong with that. But to the degree that we find ourselves as neighbors among different people who don't share our religious values should not be a reason to move necessarily, but an opportunity to witness in love, integrity, and truth. It is hard work, as all years-long relationships are.  

"Everything I Count As Joy"

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time nare not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." 

(Rom 8:18)

 

This afternoon I called a friend, and was given a great gift in exchange: the gift of joy in witnessing the reception of Truth. My friend, who identifies as a Protestant Christian, went to a Latin High Mass with his two kids at our local FSSP parish out of curiosity (he told me that when he heard some Latin Mass communities were being monitored by the FBI, "I had to check it out." I got a kick out of that). He said he was blown away, and moved to tears. "That's the real deal, man," he told me. "It just felt...holy." His kids were riveted as well. Even more surprisingly, he relayed that he is all in and inquiring about coming into the Church. As soon as possible.

If that seems rash and impetuous, please allow me the liberty to tease this out a little, as there are a number of layers to peel back in this story. It begins with an impromptu exposure to the Mass of the Ages, but it doesn't end there and is not the focal point; in fact, that is just the beginning. But I promise you--hope and joy is at the center of it all. 

My friend (who is my age) has a stubborn and aggressive form of bladder cancer. He gets it removed, it comes back; more tumors taken out, more come back. At this point, due to a series of delays in treatment for various reasons, it has moved to some of his muscle, and so the prospect of having to have his bladder removed is on the table. This is his life, but he carries it as a manageable reality. After all, dinner still needs to be made, kids need to be attended to, house maintenance needs to be done; life doesn't stop when you are sick. 

He's hopeful and enthusiastic about alternative treatments, but also realizing their limitations, I think. Physicians can treat the body, but not the soul. He and his family are essentially homeless nomads, spiritually speaking. They don't have a regular church, and he recognizes that many of the Protestant congregations they have visited don't have the substance to sustain a dark night like the one he may soon be entering with his upcoming surgery. My friend is a voracious consumer of information, and I think he is realizing that in fact the Catholic Church, the church founded by Christ, is "the real deal." 

He was out shopping for suits for his son and himself tonight so they can be well dressed for Mass when I called. When he got home, I drove over and brought him a "starter pack" arsenal to begin his journey with: A book on the Latin Mass for beginners, a detailed Examination of Conscience put out by the FSSP, a copy of the Baltimore Catechism, and an anthology of saints. I also included blessed and exorcised salt, a bottle of Epiphany Water, a Miraculous Medal and St. Benedict medal on a chain, and a rosary. 

It's hard not to overwhelm people with Catholic "stuff," because you share in their excitement and enthusiasm for their newfound discovering of the faith. You want to dive right in with them straight away. But we don't eat a lifetime of meals in one sitting, nor are we expected to. We have to pump the brakes and learn the hard virtues of prudence and temperance, even with spiritual things (I think the NC Register had a good article on that recently here). 

But it's good to have these kinds of resources on hand for these kinds of occasions. As I mentioned, nothing gives me greater joy than witnessing people come to faith, witnessing conversion flowering and grace flowing like a river. It doesn't always pan out or blossom, but that is God's prerogative. As the saying goes, we are simply beggars telling other hungry beggars where to find bread--a great privelege.

Part of my friend's sense of urgency too, though, is the realization that his mortal body is in a vulnerable and fragile state. Most of us really do take our health for granted; that is, until you're not healthy. Even though our body is not all there is to our person, we can't live without it. And so, we are tasked with taking care of it as a temple of the Holy Spirit as best we can. Health is not an absolute; it is not even a pre-requisite when it comes to living a fruitful spiritual life. Many of the greatest saints in the history of the Church battled with infirmity, and some (like St. Ignatius) found faith while injured/incapacitated and confined to bed.

What's so cool about being a Catholic is you are often afforded behind the scenes footage of the stories unfolding--you don't know how they are going to end, but you know the Divine Director has everything under control. You are right where you need to be and where He has you placed at this moment in time, and not a moment sooner. The same applies to my friend. 

But it's also exciting because while faith is blossoming in his spirit, and God is orchestrating the details and setting the stage for a masterpiece to be written, we really don't know what direction the story is going to go. 

On the one hand, I have faith in the power of grace, and the intercession of the saints. Personally, I am praying and asking for the intercession of Servant of God Francis Houle to heal my friend of his bladder cancer (I have written about SOG Francis Houle, who was a grandfather and stigmatist and whose son we had Thanksgiving dinner with before, here). Francis' son relayed to us that crowds of people would come to their home so that his father could lay hands on them; in once instance, his son found him sick in the backroom throwing up, as he had taken on the toxic effects of chemotherapy to himself from someone who had come to him seeking healing. If I can make a request, I would ask you join me in prayer in asking for his intercession in this case--for the healing of my friend, but also for the glory of God that a literal miracle might take place leading to Francis' formal canonization.  

On the other hand, God is sovereign in Heaven, and He does as He pleases (Ps 115:3). The healing of the body comes secondary to the elevation of the spirit, and if God chooses not to heal my friend, but by way of his cancer bring him to salvation through His Son and His Bride, the Church, then that too is an outcome worthy of joy. For as Christians, we do not fear those who want to kill the body...for they cannot kill the soul. Instead, we should fear him which is able to destroy both body and soul (Mt 10:28). In this, my friend is preparing himself spiritually through the inculcation of unmerited grace, bolstered by the prayers of mine and yours, to prepare his temple. Whether it is preserved in this life, or destroyed and raised up again in the next, is God's will and concern. 

Can He heal him? Yes, He can. God is a big God--nothing is too big or difficult or beyond hope for Him--Christ His son the worker of miracles for those who believe (1 Cor 2:9). Should He chose to do so, we must be sure not to waste the opportunity afforded us to give his holy name glory for the conversion of others.

Can He use his illness for that same glory? Yes, He can. For Christ is preparing a place for my friend, for He has many mansions and He goes ahead to prepare a place for him (Jn 14:2-6)--whether next week, or twenty years from now. The time and hour is not important or our concern when we live by faith; what is our concern--and what my friend has right--is that we prepare our own hearts to accept him, repent, and believe with a sober urgency. This is grace moving the will, and is not accidental. 

As Christians, we participate in Christ's death through suffering, and offering it up redemptively; we can do this for ourselves, as well as others. But because we are composed of both body and spirit, we are called to serve in charity the corporal needs of widows, orphans, the hungry, the imprisoned, and the infirmed. It can be as simple as bringing someone a meal or offering to rake their leaves, or it can be to hold a hand to comfort during a time of need. Our hidden sacrifices we can offer as an oblation on behalf of others; they are not meaningless, not wasted. This is how we witness to our faith in joy--a joy that should be a contagion, not a lab specimen. For we are people of hope--the hope of the resurrection of the dead, and faith without works is dead (James 2:26); 1 Thes 4:13-18). 

I am so excited to see what God has in store for my friend, and am privileged to witness it. If I died tonight, I could die happy, if only knowing I was able to participate in it for even a short time. Please, reader, pray for my friend, his wife and children, his healing if it be God's will, and his eternal salvation. And in all things, to God be the glory.

The Novus Ordo Made Me A Stronger Catholic. Here's Why

 

I periodically attend a weekly virtual meet-up with converts through The Coming Home network. Many come from Protestant backgrounds, and while some may have had negative experiences in their respective denominations, many speak warmly and charitably of the tradition they were raised up in, recounting a love of the Bible and being embraced by the community.

But as the saying goes, "Weak Catholics become Protestants and strong Protestants become Catholic." 

When I came into the Church in the 1990's, the Novus Ordo was the standard menu fare. Although I was confirmed in the Byzantine rite, most of my experience and formation on campus during those formative years was in the context of the New Mass. I simply didn't know there was an "Old" (Tridentine) Mass.

And for all practical purposes, there wasn't, at least not in my sphere of influence. The 1984 indult granted by Pope John Paul II was before my time, and Summa Pontificum wasn't promulgated until 2007 (nine years after I came into the Church). This squishy middle period in history was where God decreed I land. I was beyond grateful, and with the Psalmist I gave thanks: "You lifted me up from the miry pit, and set my feet upon a rock" (Ps 40:2).

I never fell in love with the Mass--growing up going to the Divine Liturgy with my father, it was not the incense-imbued novelty for me it is with many Latin Catholics. Nor did the New Mass exactly inspire. I felt like there was a lot I had to overlook in it, though like a child, I didn't have the language to articulate the shortcomings (which today, are clear as day). 

Instead, the Mass was where I went to meet the Lord who had ransomed me and whom I encountered personally. It was there I placed on the plain, unadorned altar my own inadequate worship through the corporeal body. 

The idea then was "it's enough that they (the students) just come." Come as you are. Like the fasting requirements of the universal (Latin) Church during Lent, it was a pretty low bar. And, presumably, whatever it takes to keep people out of mortal sin. 

But that was enough for me. Times after Communion were sweet, intimate. The Lord, I felt, had endowed me with the gift of tears during those years, because I often wept over my sins as they contrasted to His divine goodness, Him whom I had just received under guise of bread. 

I also found a subset of more serious and well-formed Catholics through various clubs and the Newman Center with whom I could live out my faith in prayer and worship, retreats, and service to the poor.  But I think I sensed early on there was more to the Church than the standard fare, a deeper aquifer beneath the surface. When our chaplain invited myself and a handful of other guys out for a vocation weekend at the nearby Benedictine monastery, I thought I had found my calling. This was a true and authentic expression of how the Catholic faith could be lived out. Not that it should be lived out this way, for God does not call all men to the consecrated life. Maybe, though, he would make an exception with me. 

Monasticism emerged as a counter-movement to the perceived laxity of post-Constantinian Catholicism in the West. When it was becoming harder to die for the faith as a martyr, those wanting to live out their faith in a more intentional and sincere manner would instead die to self in the desert. I spent part of the summer after my freshman year, six months a Catholic now, in a discernment program at a contemplative (also Benedictine) community in New York state trying to emulate those early Cennobites. Pray, work, study---this was my rented life for five weeks, and I loved it. Or at least, I wanted to love it. But no matter how many monasteries I visited and discerned with over the next ten years, it always fit like a shirt one size too small--chaffing under the arms, and a little too tight in the chest. 

If the monastic life didn't fit (even if the idea of being a monk did in my mind), the prospect of marriage didn't seem to be fitting either. I chalked that up to not wanting or having a vocation to the married life. But part of it could have been not having met the right person to be married to. I was content to be alone, but I was simultaneously lonely. The solitary life, attractive as it was, was also a shirt one size too small. My petition to be accepted as a postulant at a monastery in New Mexico was charitably declined, and I was starting to despair that I simply had no vocation at all. 

My conversion was not intellectual, but personal. Christ had ransomed me, as in the woods years ago the scripture for me was fulfilled:  "For I, the LORD your God, will hold your right hand, saying to you, 'Fear not, I will help you.' (Is 41:13). I fell in love, and the love was not in the adornments, but with the person of Christ himself. In making known that love to me by a kind of personal Transfiguration, Christ revealed his true nature as Redeemer and Sanctifier--his true self. 

Because of these revelatory experiences and where they took place for me, I thought Christ made his home in the wilderness, since that was where I encountered him. I wanted to pitch my tent with him on Mount Tabor. But instead, I had to descend to the campus auditorium on Sundays to share him with a crowd of students who didn't seem to care if He showed up. What do I have to do with these people? I thought it was you and me? I would pray. The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands (Acts 17:24-25). I had fallen in love and had never wanted the honeymoon to end. But the day after the wedding feast, you have to move in and get about to the task of being married day after day.

When I was in discernment, I was (in between visits to different communities as an Observer) dating a sweet, wonderful Catholic girl who would have made a great spouse. But the timing just never worked out. And timing is never an accident. When you meet someone is as important as anything else and it doesn't happen apart from God's will. 

But what if I had met her at a different time--when I was more settled, ready to get married? I did reach that point in my life eventually, but it ended up being with a different person. Again, this did not happen apart from God's will and for His intended purpose. His way is perfect, and all things work for the good for those who love him (Ps 18:30; Rom 8:28))

I think about that in the context of the Latin Mass. Like many people who have discovered it, you think "Where have you been all my life?"  But were it God's will that I found it when I first came into the Church, would it have been an adornment that could, God forbid, be taken off like a robe? What if it were the Mass itself that attracted me, rather than the One who was on the altar there? I was fed and sustained with my daily manna in the New Rite without fail during this long liturgical sojourn. When I grumbled unknowingly in my heart about the manna He sustained me by, he sent meat by way of the Latin Mass (Ex 16:12).

But it was grace that saved me, not the Mass. It was God who found me, not the other way around. And He that was born in a unadorned and uninspiring stable willed that I have my upbringing be under this roof. I cannot change that any more that I can change when or how I met my wife, or the parents I was born to. For if the course of that history had changed by my will rather than His, I might never have met her, and might never had been born at all.

God has given me the grace of sustained faith over the past twenty five years not because of the (New) Mass but, oftentimes, in spite of it. Because for the majority of that time, I did not have the benefit of beautiful churches or always-reverent liturgies. I was not in the company of Navy Seal Catholics, but often the opposite. I could not rest on the laurels of orthodox teaching, so I had to learn discernment. In this marriage, I really had to work at it to stay married. And it forced me to dig deep and keep at the forefront of my mind just Who it was I was married to. To do otherwise was to risk sinking into the sea of unbelief (Mt 14:22-23). 

I realize that this experience is my own, but I don't think I am alone in it. Even Moses had an affinity for his kin though he was raised up as an Egyptian (Ex 2). Most of us (some more than others) have a degree of trauma from our childhoods, whether we realize it or not. Even though many of us who attend the TLM act like enlightened college freshmen coming back home after their first semester of college, telling our parents how wrong and stupid they are about basically everything, they are still the ones who raised us, fed us, educated us, and did the best they could for us. They made you who you are today, even though you are not the same person now that you were then.  You be grateful for that, and give thanks that you, too, have been born from and ransomed by this hand. 

Penance, my child. Penance

 And what a penance. The timing, though:

https://rorate-caeli.blogspot.com/2023/02/rescriptum-ex-audientia-from-yesterdays.html

Happy Shrove Tuesday.

"Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven." (Mt 5:44)

The Immolation of a Holy Oblation

As a Catholic being raised up almost exclusively in the New Rite from the age of eighteen to thirty-eight, I look back on those two decades with a few curious memories that pop up. As I have written here, I would have considered myself a "lefty Catholic" in terms of my prioritization of serving the poor and being committed to the works of social justice during that period. I experienced and took part in many egregious liturgical abuses that were simply commonplace in the circles I traveled in. Part of that I would chalk up to ignorance; you don't know what you don't know.

But there were two instances, even as a young, newly Confirmed left-learning Catholic, in which I remember being very put off by something the Novus Ordo as celebrated ad populum expressed. 

We had a priest in college who was very, let's just say, theatrical. The altar became a kind of 'center-stage' where he could be the center of attention, a performer if you will--in the gestures, the inflections, the homily, and just the overall focus. Looking back now, I remember this priest being somewhat flamboyant, but the "look at me" charades were really offputting to me at the time, when I should have been fine with it.

The second instance was similar to the first--I was living in the city after college, and this particular priest was not so much flamboyant as he was gregarious. He was a good preacher, and used the opportunity at the pulpit to try to instruct the faithful, which was admirable. But again, there was just the trigger in me that the Mass was not the place to make yourself known as a personality. I even wrote this priest an anonymous letter in which I complained about this (which I rightly or wrongly regarded as ego-centric). 

I wouldn't have been able to make sense why these 'priests on center stage' would bother me then, as I had no language to articulate it. But now, I think I do. 

Part of the problem, of course, is worship ad populum, versus ad orientum. This is the objective orientation of the priest towards the congregation in the Novus Ordo, versus with his face 'towards the East," to God (or, depending on one's perspective which would betray one's anthropological bias, "away from the people.")

I never really had any "golden unicorn" gateway drug of a "reverent Novus Ordo" to transition to Mass in the Extraordinary Form. We quit it cold turkey (at least on Sundays), and part of that was because my paradigm was starting to shift in seeing what the Mass really was: that is, front and center, it was a sacrifice. Not a "sacrifice to be there" (in terms of driving distance or longer Masses), mind you, but a sacrifice in way the Jews would understand it "the blood of oxen and goats" (Heb 10:4). In the usus antiquior, the emphasis is not on a communal meal, but a true sacrifice. 

Sacrifice is the highest form of religious worship, and true sacrfice requires three essentials: priest, victim, and immolation. "This absolute dependence of man upon his Creator is expressed in the destruction, or change, of the thing offered" [1] 

When we hear the term 'immolate' we think of those Buddhist monks setting themselves on fire in political protest in Vietnam or Tibet. They 'sacrifice' their bodies (by the unholy act of suicide) which are rendered to ashes, completely consumed by the flames of that act. There is nothing left. 

This act of immolation--the killing and utter destruction of the victim in the act of sacrifice--is largely obscured in the New Rite. I think this is what, at my core, chaffed against what worship should be, even when I experienced it as a liberal teenager and in the New Mass. The priest as victim should be immolated, be consumed into sacrifice and disappear if you will. But instead these priests took the opportunity to put themselves in front of the altar prancing around and gesticulating with their personalities center-stage. You couldn't not see them.

Contrast this to the priest's presence in the Extraordinary Form. He essentially disappears. A minimal amount of his personality comes through, held back by the rubrics of the Mass for the benefit of the faithful. He "prays the black and does the red," and any other priest who is trained to do so can step in seamlessly take his place were he not available. The lamb, the sacrificial victim, is killed and burned up--immolated. This is a worthy sacrifice and is fitting to worship. Because the four elements of this worship--priest, victim, altar, and sacrifice--are essentially inseparable, the priest mystically does so as well. 

For the faithful, we have the benefit of "seeing Christ" in this sacrifice, not seeing Fr. Bob or each other. We do not travel to hear an "awesome homily" as Protestants do or "see people and catch up", but to offer fitting sacrifice of ourselves in the sacrifice of Christ the Paschal Lamb in atonement for our sins. This can be a paradigm shift in how we think about the nature and purpose of sacrifice for those who may only know the New Mass. At least if was for me. When you do reorient yourself, though, you start to "see" with different eyes what is really taking place before you at the altar. Christ is the ultimate sacrifice pleasing to the Father. Sacrifice is the essential form of religion, and the immolation of the oblation reminds us that "God is a consuming fire" (Heb 12:29)

[1] The Latin Mass Explained (Moorman), 5, 15

The Novus Ordo May One Day Save Your Life

 One of the struggles I have as a traditionally-minded Catholic is to be on guard as David was when he prayed, “Who can discern his errors? Forgive my hidden faults. Keep your servant also from willful sins; may they not rule over me. Then will I be blameless, innocent of great transgression" (Ps 19:12-14). Catholics who have such dispositions towards Tradition may find themselves on the high ground in some areas, while completely blindsided by others. I think this is especially the case when it comes to a critical spirit, and pride--dangerous and pernicious sins that burr into the crevices of our spirit and make a home without us even realizing it. 

While I believe the Holy Father's inquisition against Traditionalists is unjust and targeted, it is similar to the way stereotypes operate--there is always a degree of truth in the broad-brushing. Are Traditionalists one-hundred percent "Triumphalist, self-absorbed, Promethean neo-Pelagians?" as Pope Francis has uncharitably referred to them? Of course not. Are there degrees and elements of this in many of them? For sure. Are traditionalists greater saints than the rest of us? God only knows.

I find myself slipping into this kind of subtle nose-snubbing, sometimes without even realizing it, separating traditional Priests and congregants from N.O. priests and congregants in a kind of unconscious "A-list" and "B-list", Marines vs. Army, etc. I think part of that is that I am using the wrong canon (ruler) to measure with. While I believe that the Extraordinary Form is as a matter of objectivity more beautiful, more reverent, and more fitting liturgy for worship than the Ordinary Form, this is not a silver bullet for transforming oneself or one's family into saints on it's own. The canon in this sense for us should not be "which liturgy is more reverent" or "which group of congregants has it right," but "to what degree am I being made holy myself?" 

I have written before about various reasons why, were push come to shove as it relates to the implementation of Traditionis Custodes, assisting at the SSPX is off the table for us. This is a personal decision that every individual and head of household needs to discern for themselves, what line they will and will not cross were the Latin Mass to be taken from them. I have wrestled a lot with this, and do not take these matters lightly. While educating myself on the history, their canonical status and Archbishop Lefebvre himself, I have grown more sympathetic and understanding towards the Society. 

But there are still elements which give me pause, despite those who seem to gloss over such issues. I've already written about the marriage issue here. But there is another more general disposition being that many Society priests will provide council against attendance at the New Mass, even when there is no traditional Mass available:

"When it comes to attendance at the Novus Ordo Mass, SSPX priests do not hesitate to tell faithful that they should not attend that Mass under any circumstances, even on a Sunday and in a place where no traditional Mass is available. It is a very clear and straightforward matter. 

The purpose of attending Mass is to give glory to God and to sanctify one’s soul. But we hold that the New Mass is not pleasing to God and so dishonors Him. As such, to attend the Novus Ordo Mass is to go against the very purpose for going to Mass. Instead of honoring God by attending Mass, one is dishonoring God by doing so. "

If one takes this matter of not fulfilling their Sunday obligation lightly, they should prayerfully reconsider what is at stake here. For this counsel no longer becomes one of preference or objective reverence, but elevates a beautiful and reverent illicit Mass above a potentially banal and unedifying Mass which is nevertheless both valid and licit. In other words, in the example of when one is traveling, there is no excuse to forgo Sunday Mass even when there is no Traditional Latin Mass and the Novus Ordo is the only option. Canon 844.2 states:

§2. Whenever necessity requires it or true spiritual advantage suggests it, and provided that danger of error or of indifferentism is avoided, the Christian faithful for whom it is physically or morally impossible to approach a Catholic minister are permitted to receive the sacraments of penance, Eucharist, and anointing of the sick from non-Catholic ministers in whose Churches these sacraments are valid.

There is no doubt or argument that the sacrament of Holy Eucharist is valid when confected in Society chapels. There is also no doubt that whenever necessity requires it, the Church permits the faithful to receive these valid Sacraments. I think the issue here is the license the faithful take with "as true spiritual advantage suggests." That is, the argument being made is that the Novus Ordo is so egregiously offensive to God and so spiritually damaging to the formation of faith, that this constitutes justification for the regularization outside of emergency situations to take refuge in a SSPX chapel. In other words, the exception is now made the norm. In my own humble opinion, this is a tenuous reasoning that carries with it spiritual perils that may not be immediately apparent.  

Society priests were truly worthy of admiration during COVID when chapels were kept open as some diocesan churches shuttered in response to the virus; they recognized the "essential nature" of spiritual nourishment, whereas many diocesan parishes may have regarded it otherwise. Of course, this statement is easy to make in retrospect, when the reality is that two years ago was that no one really knew the degree of threat which the virus posed and how it was transmitted; pastors were making best judgments with limited information. To that end, a little grace would go a long way.

And yet, some saw this valiant witness of the SSPX during this time and took up a home there. Some (as one young father I am loosely acquainted with) even seemed to adopt a semi-Donatist mindset of regarding Novus Ordo priests who shut down churches and withheld sacraments during this period as apostates.  

All this being said, it is wishful thinking that the New Mass (which comprises over 98.5% of Masses celebrated in the United States) will go by the wayside. The reality on the ground is, most of your sacramental exposure--for better or for worse--will be proxy to a so-called "Novus Ordo priest."

I wrote in The Hunger Years that,

"A time is coming when people will seek absolution for their sins and find, not a priest unwilling to open the door, but no priest at all. A time is coming when people will notice they are hungry for the Eucharist, for the Holy Mass, for a blessing—the very things we take for granted today—and they will go away hungry because there is no priest to feed them. Faithful Catholics will want to have their children baptized, want to get married, and will find waiting lists months long. The churches they knew from their youth will be museums. Those in mortal sin will beg for a priest to hear their confession and will not be able to find one. Those possessed by demons will have no recourse, and exorcists will be so overwhelmed they will have no choice but to turn people away.

We are entering the mission era of the Church in the United States. You would be wise to prepare yourself now with spiritual food for the journey, with the Eucharist, daily Mass, Confession—because the hunger years are around the corner. Avoid mortal sin like the plague. Fast and pray for the Lord to call up mighty warrior priests who are not afraid to go into the fray. Get your own house in order so you can evangelize as a living example to others. Be open to life and welcoming of children. Instruct them well and be intentional about passing on the Faith and living it out. Encourage your sons to become priests if it is God’s will for them. Catholicism is not like other Christian denominations. No priests means no Mass. No Mass means no Eucharist. No Eucharist means no life within you."

When I get kind of liturgically and spiritually snobby without realizing it, I'm sometimes reminded that the vast majority of people in need of grace do not have ideological dogs in the fight. For some, they may have been away from the Church for decades and are just one confession away from salvation. For others, they may be Christians of a another denomination and have an insatiable appetite for the Lord's flesh and blood. Others may be on their deathbed and desire the grace of Extreme Unction to find a final resting place. Or, they might simply be like my Latin Mass attending friend who was going through a hard time in her life. I curtly tried to spare her one night when she asked where she could attend Mass in our area on a Tuesday, but was humbled at her response; "No TLM tonight; just the Novus Ordo," I said. She told me plainly in response, "Friend, I need Jesus."

There is an incredibly moving scene in Padre Pio: Miracle Man (1:47-1:51 for the particular scene) in which Padre Pio faces his Vatican persecutor during his final hours and illuminates the priest to a memory in which he closes the door on a soldier seeking absolution; the priest acted in fear and dereliction of duty, and the soldier was killed, unconfessed. The hardened priest is filled with shame, yet Padre Pio reassures him, "I absolved him for you," (by way of the miracle of bilocation). Not only that, but the saintly Padre Pio humbles himself before this priest to seek absolution at his hands in his final hours of life. Two priests--one saint, one sinner--embracing through the grace of the Sacrament.

I am relying on grace to preserve my family should our diocesan Latin Mass no longer be an option in the future, and I pray for discernment. It is not easy, nor is it easy to defer in a spirit of obedience our preferences when we are more inclined to dig our heels in in a spirit of defiance. I don't know what the right answer is, and continue to wrestle with it. But I do believe that God is faithful and will not abandon those who seek him with a pure heart. He will give us the grace we need on the day we need it, the way He provided daily manna for the wandering Israelites, even if it doesn't come in the form we expect. If we have the gift of the liturgy in the Extraordinary Form, thanks be to God. If God provides grace by way of the Novus Ordo, I do not want to spurn that grace. 

Take my life, Lord. Take my preferences and melt them in the refining fire of your love. Take my pride and my understanding and purify it for your glory. Take the impurities in my intentions and siphon them out, so that I am left with nothing but a contrite soul wholly dependent on you to live. Filter out a critical spirit and supplant it with pure gratefulness. Give me no more than my daily bread, that I may not curse you in hunger, nor forget you in satiation. Do not abandon me to the netherworld, but unite me with your servant so that I may pray, "Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me" (Ps 51:10).